


Lonely Together

by slingading



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, some blood and violence, will add more tags as needed and becomes applicable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28733013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slingading/pseuds/slingading
Summary: Steve finally convinces himself to explore the Nether—despite Alex’s warnings and efforts to convince him otherwise—and the whole experience does not go the way he’d planned.Or;Steve accidentally befriends an antisocial demon and it’s—surprisingly—the easiest relationship he’s ever had.
Relationships: Herobrine/Steve (Minecraft)
Comments: 103
Kudos: 144





	1. Accidental Home Invasion

“I still think you’re insane for wanting to do this.”

Steve scoffed, stepping back from his project and admiring the gleaming structure of obsidian with triumph. It had taken him a week to both find diamonds for a pickaxe and mine the obsidian, but he’d done it. After convincing himself to go to the Nether, no amount of naysaying was going to change his mind.

Alex had humored him when he’d pitched the idea to her, but had she’d known he was actually going to do it, she would have put effort into trying to convince him that it was a bad idea. For whatever reason, she despised the Nether, shooting down his offers for her to join him before he was fully finished speaking. She refused to even _think_ about going, and Steve wasn’t going to push the subject if she felt so strongly about it. He was surprised that an adventurer such as Alex would shy away from the chance to explore something as notorious as the Nether, but she was adamant in her refusal.

It didn’t bother Steve too much, considering he was going to go either way. While he would have liked to have Alex with him to both watch his back and offer her company, he was comfortable with the idea of going alone.

And now finally the portal was ready. All he had to do was light it.

“Of the two of us, you’re the one who’s acting crazy. I mean, how could you not want to explore the Nether? It’s _the Nether_.”

Alex just gave him an unimpressed stare. “Exactly.”

Steve shook his head, walking to the side where he’d set down a chest. Inside was a beat up set of iron armor, well-worn and scuffed to hell and back. It had served him well for the last several months, and depending on how this trip went, might be due for an upgrade soon.

He slid on each piece and completed the look with an iron sword at his hip. The bundle on his opposite hip had some bread and apples, some torches, one potion of healing, and two potions of fire resistance, which Alex had surprised him with and which had cost her a small fortune. Potions using ingredients from the Nether tended to be more expensive for the simple fact that no one wanted to go to the Nether to retrieve said ingredients when stock was low. Alex had practically forced the potions onto him, threatening to sabotage his portal if he wasn’t prepared properly.

For someone who seemingly hated the Nether, she was awfully knowledgable about it.

The last thing in the chest was a flint and steel. Feeling confident, he picked them up and walked back over to Alex.

“Are you _suuuuure_ you don’t want to come with?” He offered one last time. She shook her head.

“No thanks. If you die, _someone_ has to remember you.”

“Ha ha.”

“Though, if I can’t convince you to back out, I do have some requests—items that would really help the village if you can find them.”

Steve repressed a sigh. He didn’t care much for the village that Alex frequented, simply because they didn’t care much for him, but he _did_ care about Alex, who was his first and only friend. She had apologized on their behalf numerous times but Steve had told her it wasn’t a big deal. Having come to terms with villagers’ aversion to him long ago, it no longer bothered him. If anything, he preferred it this way now. He didn’t want to be around people, and people didn’t want to be around him. A win-win.

“I’ll try to remember, granted I’m not too busy running for my life. What are they?”

Instead of telling him, Alex handed him a list. Huh. She must have made the list after realizing her attempts to dissuade him were useless.

The list contained potion ingredients, just like he’d expected, with nether wart circled and highlighted. He stashed the note in the bundle.

He stepped up to the portal and before he could think too much about it, struck the flint and steel together at the base. The second the sparks made contact with the obsidian, a shimmering purple film materialized. It was mesmerizing, and more than a little intimidating. The sounds alone were sometimes enough to make adventurers change their mind.

Steve took a deep breath as he shoved the flint and steel into the bundle. He looked back at Alex and gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“You better be. Good luck.”

With a final nod, he turned and jumped into the portal.

The next thing he knew, his head was swimming and it was hot.

Like, _really_ hot.

Eyes closed and taking deep breaths, he waited for the dizziness to recede before standing and taking in his surroundings. The first thought that immediately came to mind was that there was _a lot_ of red. Like, an absurd amount. It made judging distance almost impossible, made his visible surroundings appear barren. But, as he discovered by walking forward a little, that was not the case. Because in front of him was a cliff, at the bottom of which was an ocean of lava.

He felt lightheaded from the scale of it. There was more lava down there than he’d ever seen in his life. It was mind-boggling, that something like this could exist.

Backing away from the cliff, he took in his surroundings again, this time with a more critical eye. The portal was in what Steve could only relate to a Nether version of a plains biome, given the lack of anything at all. Though, way above him was a layer of netherrack, so perhaps he was in a cave?

On the other side of the lava ocean was more ground, but he had no way of crossing to it, so he turned around. He couldn’t quite make sense of what the geometry was doing—it seemed like he was in an open area, but on one side there was an outcrop, and beyond that, _more_ open space.

He decided to just ignore it. If he couldn’t understand, he wouldn’t try to. He wasn’t there to investigate the impossible geometry, after all.

While he didn’t _technically_ have a purpose in the Nether, he would use Alex’s list as a to-do list. He was secretly grateful for it—beyond just _being_ in the Nether, he hadn’t thought ahead of what he’d actually do. So having direction definitely made it worth it.

After walking the edge of the area he’d appeared in, he discovered he was on an island of sorts. Completely surrounded by lava on all sides save for one, which had a narrow bridge he was able to cross with much trepidation. Nothing had happened yet, and it was putting him on edge.

The only thing he’d actively researched about the Nether were the mobs, and how prevalent they were. Unlike the Overworld, in the Nether mobs were always everywhere, as there was no perceivable day and night cycle.

But as he passed over the bridge and walked farther away from his portal, there still was nothing to meet him. No ghasts flying around, no magma cubes, no zombie pigmen. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the Nether was abandoned.

Well, better not look a gift horse in the mouth. He took out a torch to start marking a path from the portal, but as he crested a small hill, he found he didn’t need it. Because there, placed innocently in that huge ocean of lava, was a Nether fortress.

He stared at it in dumbfounded amazement, wondering about his luck. Nether wart was the only thing that Alex really wanted him to bring back—if the note was anything to go on—and it could only be found in a fortress. And here one was, not even 100 feet from his portal. 

Well. Gift horses and all that.

The area he was on now connected conveniently with one of the many narrow walkways that extended from the fortress. His instincts told him it was manmade—the way the netherrack was formed, as if reaching for the nether brick, was too unnatural, even for the Nether—but he had no better ideas of getting into the fortress, so he proceeded with caution.

As he walked he half expected the ground to give out any second, but he made it unhindered to the fortress proper. It was still eerily silent, so much so that he almost turned back.

He’d thought the Nether would be full of life and motion and action, and though the mobs were dangerous, he thought he might prefer if that were the case, instead of this dead, empty wasteland. Either reports of the Nether had been greatly exaggerated, or something was going on, because this was simply not right.

Since he’d managed to find a fortress so easily, he resolved to getting some nether wart and getting out. His curiosity had been satisfied—for the moment—and now he wanted to return to the Overworld and _actually_ do his own research, and ask Alex if what he was experiencing was normal. But, nether wart first.

According to Alex’s note, nether wart was found in a specific room in a fortress, one with a staircase.

Looking around, there was one small structure directly in front of him. More pathways lead away from it, all of them except the one behind him seemingly leading to a sheer drop into lava. Having no other options, he entered the building.

Which turned out to be nothing much, simply an empty room with a steep staircase leading down. Taking a deep breath, he drew his sword just in case and descended.

It wasn’t as long as he’d thought, just one story down, though the inside of the fortress looked incredibly different than what he’d been expecting. The topside more closely resembled his expectations, the inside looked...lived in.

There were lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and a red rug in the middle of the hallway. Paintings lined the walls. It was like he’d walked into someone’s house.

This...well, he didn’t _think_ a fortress was supposed to look like this, but having never been to one before, he couldn’t know for sure. So although his instincts were telling him something was _definitely_ wrong, he proceeded with caution anyways.

The hallway turned and split and he ran into several deadends, but it remained the same. Same red carpet, same lanterns, same painting placements. After about ten minutes of wandering he felt thoroughly lost, and was sure he wouldn’t be able to find the same place he’d entered from.

“What the fuck is going on?” He muttered to himself. Of course, just as he said that, and as soon as he fully rounded the next corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes going wide.

The skeleton standing in the middle of the hallway was the biggest one he’d ever seen, towering over him by at least three feet. It’s bones were blackened, as if it’d been burnt, and it was carrying a stone sword, which had never looked more dangerous than it did in that thing’s grasp. It was staring straight at one of the paintings, of which depicted a dark figure with three heads. Almost at the same time, Steve looked at it’s face and it looked away from the painting, right at him.

Steve held his breath, not daring to move a muscle. As much research as he’d done about the mobs, he didn’t remember the best course of action when dealing with a wither skeleton. Did he run immediately? Was it okay to turn his back or did it not matter? Should he attack first?

Fortunately, the decision was made for him. Unfortunately, it was because the wither skeleton bolted towards him without preamble. They were a lot closer than they probably should have been, and it was a lot faster than Steve expected it to be, so he was only able to stumble back in a blind panic as it rapidly closed the distance and swung it’s sword at him. The attack was haphazard and Steve was able to prevent a fatal or incapacitating blow, but the sword still managed to hit him, hard enough that it felt like his bones rattled. His poor, overused iron chestplate cracked at the point of impact, right down the front. The blow knocked him into the wall behind him and his head banged uncomfortably against his helmet, but he shoved the pain aside and pushed away from the wall, barely dodging a follow-up strike as he started running.

He could hear the wither skeleton give chase, and so he made several random turns and got himself even more thoroughly lost, until the sound of the bones rattling faded away. Slowing to a stop, he used the opportunity to take deep breaths. His heart was racing and each breath sent a sharp pain through his chest, but he was out of danger for the time being.

After he caught his breath, he examined his chestplate. It was like a vest now, exposing his chest and fitting awkwardly to his body. It was more of a hinderance now that it didn’t fit properly. He couldn’t even lift his arms fully. With a sigh he started taking it off. Halfway through, the sound of approaching footsteps and rattling made his head snap up, heart instantly beating double time. He was only partially out of the chestplate when the wither skeleton rounded the corner and beelined for him. He let out a yell of fear and struggled to reach for his sword, managing to pull it out at the last moment to block the skeleton’s attack.

Only, the strength behind the blow was again stronger than he expected, so the skeleton’s sword slid against his briefly before sliding off entirely and slashing across his opposite arm. He hissed in pain and stepped back on instinct, accidentally allowing the skeleton the opportunity to take a jab at him. He tried to dodge, but the blade tore through his shirt and side, slicing a jagged wound along his waist.

He yelled out in pain and, fueled by a self-preservation induced fear, found the strength to jab his sword right into the skeleton’s shoulder joint and twist, popping the arm holding the sword clean off. The arm and sword clambered to the ground and the skeleton froze, staring down at it’s own arm. Steve was staring too, surprised he’d managed to do it, but when the skeleton started to lean down, he hastily discarded the chestplate and started down the hall, gritting his teeth as his movements pulled at the cut. It didn’t feel deep but it stung like a bitch and was bleeding into his shirt and jeans, making them feel tacky.

If he didn’t find this nether wart in the next couple of turns he was going to cut his losses and find his way out of here. He could come back with better armor and maybe a bow, and definitely with a map.

He was so preoccupied thinking of a better way to go about exploring the Nether that he didn’t notice the other until it was too late. He collided with something hard and would have fallen backwards on his ass if not for the strong grip to his upper arms. He immediately made a sound of pain when the grip squeezed over the slice there, and then the hands fell away as he looked up to see what he’d ran into.

And—

Oh no.

“Why are you here?”

Steve could only stare wide-eyed and opened mouth. The clear irritation in the voice was reflected on the face of the man he’d collided with, who was staring at him and looked as unhappy as someone could. Steve was sure he looked ridiculously stupid as he gaped unabashedly, but he knew this man, even if he never believed him to be real.

Maybe the wither skeleton had actually killed him and he was dead, because that was the only possible explanation for why Herobrine was standing in front of him, staring at him like he was a particularly disgusting piece of trash.

“You’re—Y-You’re—!”

Herobrine’s expression of disdain deepened. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

Before Steve could answer, the wither skeleton caught up to him. Its arm was still missing, the sword clasped in its other hand. But it stopped a number of feet away, going from a dead sprint to completely motionless. Steve stared wearily at it, wincing when Herobrine pushed past him to put himself somewhat between Steve and the wither skeleton.

Nothing happened for several moments wherein Steve looked back and forth between the two of them, then startled when the skeleton abruptly turned and marched away. Steve watched it disappear around a corner, and when he looked back to his present situation, Herobrine was already staring at him. 

“Am I going to need to repeat myself?” He said, and Steve’s mind was still trying to get past the fact that _Herobrine_ was apparently _real_ and standing _right in front of him_.

_Holy shit!_

“Uh...” He was drawing a blank, but at the growing anger on Herobrine’s face, his brain finally caught up with him. “I’m looking for Nether wart?”

Herobrine frowned. “Is that a question?” Then he stepped back and looked Steve up and down. “You should be looking for a new set of armor—yours is horrendous.”

Steve felt his face grow hot in embarrassment, suddenly self-conscious. He didn’t know why, since he was still pretty sure he was dead or at the very least knocked out and dreaming.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Herobrine held up a hand to stop him. “You know what? I don’t care. If I give you some nether wart will you leave?”

It was definitely what he wanted, but now that _this_ was a thing, he found himself curious again. Knowing him, he would be back. But he did need new armor, that much was true, so he nodded. “Yeah. But I’m supposed to get some for a village so...”

Herobrine sighed with a sneer. “Do you not grow the nether wart in this village of yours?” Herobrine abruptly started walking, forcing Steve to scramble to keep up with him. He grimaced as the movement pulled at the cut on his side, but it didn’t feel like it was bleeding anymore. As soon as they got to...wherever they were going, he’d have to try to remember to drink the healing potion.

Herobrine’s question came as a surprise to him. “I didn’t know nether wart could grow in the Overworld. And it’s not my village, I’ve only been there two or three times, though I don’t remember seeing any nether wart growing there.”

Herobrine muttered something that sounded rude, but Steve couldn’t quite make out what it was. He narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. They lapsed into a silence as Herobrine lead him through the hallways.

He was starting to think this was _real_ , and it was almost too much for him to wrap his head around. Herobrine, the villain of practically every child’s tale parents used to keep their kids in line, was in front of him, living and breathing and...kind of an asshole, to be honest. He didn’t _have_ to help Steve, not if the whole thing was so damn inconvenient for him. Although Steve supposed he was lucky—if those child’s tales had a lick of truth, Herobrine should have already killed him and eaten his eyes, or something equally horrible. But he seemed civil enough, if not rude as all hell, so Steve would keep an open mind about him.

(But he was still half convinced he _was_ hallucinating the whole experience.)

After not too long they came upon a set of double doors. Herobrine stopped right outside them and gave him a hard look. “Stay here and _don’t_ move.” He walked through the doors before giving Steve a chance to respond.

Huffing, Steve decided now was as good a time as any to take that healing potion. He dug it out of the bundle and downed the whole thing in one go. It had a pleasant watermelon taste and he felt a lot better afterwards. The cut on his arm healed entirely and the cut on his waist was little more than a deep paper cut. His shirt was utterly ruined and he felt weird wearing everything but a chestplate, but there was little he could do about it now.

Herobrine returned after a bit, shoving another bundle into his arms. “Here, some nether wart and a lot of soul sand.”

Steve opened the bundle to look inside. The nether wart was resting on a dark sand, the patterns of which looked more and more like tormented faces the longer he looked. Ill at ease, he closed the bundle and affixed it next to his other one.

“Er—thanks. But how—“

“Just plant the nether wart on the sand like you would any crop on dirt. So easy even _you_ could figure it out.”

Herobrine started walking again, this time back the way they’d come, and Steve glared at his back the whole way but said nothing. Don’t get him wrong, he was glad Herobrine wasn’t actually some sort of murderous psychopath, but the guy could use a few lessons on how not to be a total dickhead.

After what seemed like much too short a walk, Herobrine lead him into the room he’d entered the maze-like hallways from. The fortress was a lot bigger than he’d made it out to be, as he only remembered taking one or two turns from the double doors to here, but he’d been lost in the winding corridors for a while before encountering anything.

Herobrine didn’t pause in the room, instead he climbed the sheer staircase and was waiting at the top for Steve.

“Where’s your portal?”

The walkway in front of them was the one leading back to netherrack, making the portal that direction as well. It wasn’t visible but Steve pointed anyway. “Over that hill.”

Herobrine grabbed his arm and then—

The greatest wave of vertigo he’d ever experienced crashed into him. For a moment the ground dropped out from under him and his lungs felt like they were being squeezed by an iron fist, then everything righted itself in a snap. He gasped and fell to his hands and knees, grimacing as he was nearly sick.

Luckily the feeling of his insides doing somersaults passed quickly, and he stood on shaky legs. Herobrine was glaring at him, arms crossed. “You’re welcome. Don’t come back.”

Between one blink and the next he was gone. Steve startled, looking around, but he was alone.

If not for the obvious signs that everything that had just happened had _actually just happened_ —his missing chestplate, tattered shirt, and extra bundle—he might have been inclined to write the entire experience off as a vivid hallucination. But everything _had_ happened, and that meant...

As he stood in the portal to be transported back to the Overworld, he looked in the direction he knew the fortress to be.

Oh, he was _definitely_ coming back.


	2. When the Demon you meet cares more about your safety than your own species

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad everyone seems to be liking this!
> 
> Here's the next chapter, enjoy!

After talking to Alex, Steve learned that his experience was definitely not normal.

As much as Alex hated the Nether, she had done a lot of research to come to that conclusion, so the fact that he reported a complete absence of mobs stumped her. She also told him it was clearly a red flag and he shouldn’t return, but he had made no promises.

She hadn’t seen his sorry state when he’d returned and he hadn’t seen fit to tell her all that transpired, though he had to come up with an excuse as to why he’d bothered grabbing the soul sand. It was surprisingly easy—“It grows on soul sand doesn’t it?”—and though Steve was surprised that apparently nobody had thought to take the thing nether warts grew on, he probably wouldn’t have either.

But the next day she had practically tackled him and thanked him, because now the village could make more potions more often. They had given the credit to Alex and hadn’t let her explain, but Steve just shook his head. It didn’t matter who got the credit, especially since it wasn’t even him to come up with it.

As the days passed and he busied himself with finding and smelting enough iron for a new set of armor, his mind kept drifting back to Herobrine.

It was still so shocking, to have encountered a legend he was sure wasn’t real. It raised a ton of questions. How was he real? And why was he in the Nether? Based on the tales, he should be rampaging around the Overworld causing mass destruction and/or hysteria, or lurking in the darkness to steal away wayward travelers. Instead he was, what—wandering the Nether and living in solitude in a fortress? Why?

He tried doing research, but he couldn't find anything he didn't already know. Nothing about how Herobrine came to be, or why he supposedly did the things he did. There wasn't even information about when he showed up. Every report or journal or recount he read just stated that Herobrine was evil and only caused death and destruction, blah blah blah.

Those questions were on his mind until finally he was ready with a new set of armor to try again. Instead of nerves, this time he was filled with giddiness. Despite having only encountered the one mob and having failed miserably at fighting it, he _did_ feel a little more equipped to handle a second visit. He wouldn’t underestimate any mobs—if he even saw one. If he hadn’t been in an enclosed space against that wither skeleton, he was sure he would have been able to outrun it.

Alex was less insistent on him not going, since his trip had yielded good and he hadn’t died or been horribly injured. She had promised to look after his stuff until he returned but she was distracted their entire talk, making lists and cataloging potion ingredients, so he left with a smile. He was glad—way deep down—that he’d been able to help the village, even if they wouldn’t thank him or even believe he’d been the one to do it. The pain of rejection and loneliness was an old wound that ached every now and again, but he had Alex, and her company helped.

He pushed those thoughts away, realizing he was standing in front of the portal and staring off into space. Now was not the time—he could wallow in self-pity while eating an entire cake by himself later.

Entering the Nether was easier this time as well, since he knew what to expect. Knowing didn’t make it feel any better—nothing could provide relief from this heat—but he didn’t need to take a second to catch his breath. He marched right up to the top of that small hill that was blocking the fortress from sight and then...hesitated.

He had been given a clear warning not to return, and even for him, it would be foolish too. So as much as his curiosity burned, he turned around and went the other way.

Now that he didn’t have a destination, he placed torches down periodically, to mark his path back. He also tried making a map, so that and the torches combined should help him find his way back fairly easily.

After several minutes of aimless wandering, he came upon a clearing of flat ground that was _finally_ occupied by a mob, and one he was a little more familiar with. It had been reported that not many people survived attacks from wither skeletons, but zombie pigmen were a different story. Yes they were strong, but just as dumb as Overworld zombies. It was easy to trick them, the best way just to stand on a high perch and hack at them until they died. Steve wasn’t planning on attacking a zombie pigmen at all, but he would do well to remember that.

Since he knew they wouldn’t attack him until he made the first move, he walked among them with only mild trepidation. Still, despite the danger, it was amazing to be so close to a mob like this. In the Overworld, spiders were the only hostile mob that anyone could get close to, and that was only in the daytime. But even then, they tended to crawl back underground, preferring the warmer and quieter caves. But nobody wanted to be near spiders anyway.

But this—this was thrilling. It brought a smile to his face as he watched the zombie pigmen walk around and communicate with each other. They seemed so gentle, it was hard to imagine them with the capability to hack limbs off or shatter bones with ease.

One drifted close and Steve let it investigate him. It peered at his armor and made sounds halfway between a groan and a pig’s oink. The sounds drew in the others, and soon he had a gaggle of undead pigmen around him. Their interest waned after awhile, and Steve was free to continue on.

He was glad he’d decided to come back. As long as he stayed away from the fortress, he could explore to his heart’s content. And maybe he’d find another fortress he could more deeply explore. He’d read that fortresses could house expensive materials like diamond or gold. It would be fun to see what he could find in one. If he managed to encounter another one. He counted himself pretty lucky to have found the first one.

He passed through a small cave and came upon another large open area. Only the sight he saw pulled him up short.

Was _this_ what the Nether was supposed to be like?

There were _trees_!?

He could only gape at the sight of a forest, the entire thing coated in red but unmistakable. He never would have thought a forest could survive in an environment as hostile as the Nether, and he wondered why the idea of fireproof wood never occurred to him. Because that’s the only thing that could make sense, that if the Nether could evolve to have forests, the trees would adapt by being immune to fire. It was brilliant, and he could only imagine the benefits of having wood that couldn’t burn. Too bad there wasn’t an easy way to get the wood back home—the terrain was too wild to haul logs back. But on the map, he made a little star and wrote ‘red forest,’ in case a future opportunity presented itself.

He placed a torch just outside the cave he passed through, so he’d know the way back, then proceeded into the forest. The ground became somewhat squishy, and actual vegetation was growing in abundance. A grass equivalent covered most of the ground, and he could see regular mushrooms as well as a more bulbous, crimson mushroom of some kind. The trees that dominated the area—biome? It was weird to think of the Nether having biomes, but even weirder to think of the Nether _being_ a biome, so he supposed it made sense—didn’t appear to have conventional leaves. Instead, when he reached up to touch one, the ‘leaves’ were more of a squishy mass that grew around the trunk. It kinda reminded him of the large mushrooms that grew in dark forests.

He stepped under the tree and squinted at the fleshy light source wedged between the ‘leaves’ and the trunk. It looked like glowstone but organic—the entire biome was giving him that vibe. It was as creepy as it was cool.

He wandered a little more and chanced a look to his side, where there was a gap in the trees, wide enough for him to see a group of...actually, he didn’t know. They _looked_ like they could be zombie pigmen—or, more specifically, un-zombiefied pigmen—except their appearance screamed ‘civilized.’ Full tunics, _belts_ , swords and crossbows. They looked like bonafide pig-men, much more so than zombie pigmen did. There had been no annotations in any of the books he’d read about mobs that lived in the Nether and were more ‘men’ than ‘pig.’

He paused to watch them, hiding partially behind a tree. They were remarkably like zombie pigmen, only all their actions had just that little touch of intelligence to them. They moved with more grace—not graceful in the slightest except when compared to anything zombie—and communicated in a more concise manner than what Steve had observed of the zombie pigmen.

He was tempted to approach them, but before he could decide whether that was a good idea or not, they all suddenly looked in his direction. He felt his heart drop, sure they were about to attack him, but they all let out high pitched squeals and turned tail, running away. 

He looked around in confusion, wondering what could have spooked them. His answer was a hand grabbing his shoulder and whipping him around. He let out a completely undignified shriek of terror and pressed himself against the tree.

When he saw that it was Herobrine and not some mindless mob about to kill him, he let out a sigh. “Holy fuck, warn a guy next time would ya? By the Gods, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Tell me, has the average intelligence of the Overworld dropped since the last time I was there or are you just a special brand of stupid?” Herobrine said, glaring at him with such intensity Steve was surprised he didn’t burst into flames.

He narrowed his eyes at Herobrine’s words. “I thought you meant just the fortress.”

“Well I _didn’t_ , so when I take you back to your portal, I expect you to never return to the Nether.” Herobrine stepped back and crossed his arms. “Is that clear enough?”

Quickly irritated by the condescension in Herobrine’s voice, Steve glared right back. “No, it is _not_ clear. Why can’t I explore the Nether?”

“Because I said so.”

“‘Because I said so’—the fuck kinda answer is that? Who made you king of the Nether?”

Herobrine growled. “Don’t antagonize me. You’re leaving and that’s final.”

Steve crossed his arms, mirroring Herobrine. “No I’m not. You don’t own the Nether, you can’t stop me from exploring it.” He didn’t know where all this confidence was coming from, and he was sure he was making a big mistake, but he didn’t care. Exploring the Nether was helping to put his mind off his problems in the Overworld. He didn’t care about any of the myths or if Herobrine was a demon or not. Steve would not be bullied away from doing something he wanted to do.

Herobrine took a measured, deep breath and let it out slowly. “This is not up for debate. Don’t think I won’t knock you out and drag you back myself.”

The two stared at each other until Steve looked away, defeated. It wasn’t _fair_. He’d been so excited to do something _different_ , to not worry about encountering another human who would flee from him, or try to attack him. The Nether was too dangerous for most people but it didn’t deter Steve. He liked the thrill of not knowing what was around the next corner. He’d just found a Godsdamned _forest_ after all. Who knew what else was waiting to be discovered in the Nether?

Herobrine nodded, recognizing his acquiescence. “Now follow me and don’t stray. And _don’t_ try to run.”

Steve muttered an angry “whatever,” and followed behind Herobrine as they walked back the way Steve had come. He recognized the cave but the torch was missing. Had Herobrine removed it?

Either Herobrine had followed the torches and removed them as he came upon them, or something else had removed them. Considering how much of an asshole Herobrine was, he _had_ probably removed the torches. But it did make Steve think—what if a random mob had done it? He hadn’t even thought that possible, since it didn’t happen in the Overworld, but watching those pigmen from earlier...they might be smart enough not to ignore a torch. As much as the thought of new adventure excited him, the thought of getting lost in the Nether was terrifying.

They walked in silence until they came upon the small clearing he’d encountered the zombie pigmen in. Some were still around, but when Herobrine approached them, they all scattered, giving him a wide berth. Steve frowned at their behavior. Now that he thought about it, Herobrine’s fortress was devoid of mobs—except for that wither skeleton—and so was the area around it. Were they just smart enough to be afraid of him or did Herobrine somehow have a way of keeping them away?

They were getting closer to the portal, but Steve wasn’t ready to leave yet. He briefly debated whether he should speak up, and then decided it didn’t matter. “Can you please just tell me a reason why you don’t want me here?”

At first Herobrine didn’t show signs of even having heard him, but then he glanced over his shoulder at Steve. Steve, for his part, tried to make his expression as pathetically sad and confused as he could. After a few seconds Herobrine looked away but said, “If you die, I don’t want more humans coming in to look for you.”

That thought was so ridiculous that Steve couldn’t help it—he laughed. Oh the irony. Herobrine was literally known to be a killer and yet Steve was in more danger among his own kind in his own home than he was with Herobrine in the Nether.

He settled down, pulling his helmet off to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Oh man, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

Herobrine was frowning at him. “Why did you laugh?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me with this whole, ‘it’s for your own good’ bullshit. No one in the Overworld would care if I was missing. In fact, they would probably celebrate it. And the only friend I have is too scared to come to the Nether.”

Herobrine looked like he didn’t trust that answer. “Why?”

“Uh, ‘cause it’s a crazy dangerous hell dimension?”

Herobrine shook his head. “No, I mean why would they celebrate if you died?”

Steve shrugged. Even though he’d brought it up, he didn’t like talking about it. He turned the helmet over in his hands, staring down at it. “I’m not very popular over there. Everywhere I go, people are either afraid of me or try to attack me. It’s been that way my whole life.”

When it was silent for longer than it ought to be, Steve looked up. Herobrine’s head was turned away as he glared into the distance. Finally, he said, “It’s probably because of your eyes.”

Steve blinked. “My eyes?”

Herobrine nodded, finally looking at him.

“They’re purple.”

Steve waited, staring expectantly, but Herobrine didn’t elaborate. Just when it was starting to get awkward, Herobrine’s expression morphed into surprise. “You don’t know what that means?”

If this was anyone else, Steve would think they were pulling his leg. But based on their two encounters, Herobrine didn’t seem like the type to do that to a total stranger. Or at all, really. “Uh, no? I didn’t think it meant anything.”

“It means there was ‘Divine Intervention—‘” and he did the air quotes, much to Steve’s amusement, “—involved during your conception.”

Steve blanched. “First of all, ew. And second of all, what the fuck? Why would they interfere?”

Now Herobrine shrugged. “That depends entirely on who was involved.”

Herobrine’s face was completely serious, and his tone of voice was completely serious, but...this shit was getting too crazy, even for him. He liked to think of himself as an opened minded guy, and sure, Herobrine had turned out to be real, but cosmic entities? No fucking way.

“Are you—you’re fucking with me, right? I don’t know how long you’ve been in the Nether, but it must have been long enough to have fried your brain, because ‘divine intervention—‘are you trying to tell me that, what, the Aether is real?”

By the time he was done talking, Herobrine looked angry again. "You don't have to believe me, but don't mock me for your own shortsightedness. I should be proof enough that there are higher powers."

"Dude, I didn't even know you were real until the last time I was here."

Instead of looking surprised, Herobrine sighed. "That's not surprising. There was a lot of effort put into trying to erase my existence."

Again, Herobrine was being completely serious, but Steve could only stare open-mouthed at him. What the fuck kind of conspiracy cover-up bullshit had he stumbled into? Oh if only Alex wasn't such a wuss, she would be _loving_ this.

Herobrine turned and started walking again before Steve could think of something to say. "Come on, we've delayed long enough."

It didn't take them long to reach the portal, but Steve still wasn't ready to leave. He had double as many question this time as the last. There's no way he'd be able to live not knowing what was going on.

Herobrine gestured to the portal, and Steve stepped up to it, but then hesitated. He turned around.

"Please, just—there's nothing for me in the Overworld. Can't you make an exception? I _promise_ , on _my life_ , that no one will come looking for me."

Herobrine scrutinized him for several moments. Steve waited with bated breath, feeling sweat trickle down his neck. If Herobrine was going to say no, he would have already, right? Maybe there was a chance...

"I'll think about it," Herobrine said, and then pushed him into the portal.


	3. They say it be like that sometimes, but lately it be like that all the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, bit of a filler chapter. Bear with me!
> 
> Enjoy!

It hadn’t been a no!

Steve was uncharacteristically happy the rest of the day, so much so that when Alex made a visit in the afternoon, she commented on it. Steve just chalked it up to having a blast in the Nether, and though she clearly didn’t fully believe him, she didn’t say more on the subject. Instead Steve mentioned the strange pigmen he’d seen and she promised to look into it when she returned to her village. He didn’t bring up the forest, somewhat afraid that the benefits the Nether could offer outweighed the danger it posed and would attract people to it, if she ever mentioned what he said to anyone.

After she’d left, Steve had a restless energy that he didn’t know how to expel. He wanted adventure, but the Overworld no longer offered that to him. The Overworld was the same biomes, with the same treasures, filled with the same people. The Nether was a new mystery filled with literally unknown dangers and discoveries. Plus, what with Herobrine being real _and_ thinking back on the last strange conversation they had, there was something going on that Steve was dying to uncover.

He kept stealing glances at his portal throughout the day. Herobrine had said he would think about it, but how would Steve know his decision? Was he going to come to the Overworld? If he could, why stay in the Nether? Or was Steve supposed to just randomly pop back in and ask? Somehow he got the feeling that Herobrine would not like it if he did that. So that meant he would have to settle on waiting.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about what to do. Because when he woke up the next morning, a piece of obsidian was missing, rendering the portal useless. Well that solved that issue. He really was supposed to just wait it out.

...Which proved harder than he thought because he wanted nothing more than to go to the Nether. He was gonna go stir crazy.

After spending the morning slowly eating breakfast and staring at the portal, he decided that he needed to get out of the house. It hadn’t even been a full day and he was already obsessing over Herobrine’s answer. He needed to do something to get his mind off of it. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel like doing anything in the Overworld, but he did decide that he might as well tell Alex about Herobrine. Or at the very least, ask what she knew about him. He’d done some research but Alex had an entire library at her desposal, while he just had a few books and journals he’d collected during his travels.

Unfortunately, that meant he’d need to visit her village, and while she lived on the outskirts of it, she was liable to be visited at any moment. She was fairly popular, as she had a variety of skills that made her invaluable to any village, and she was also kind and outgoing. He didn’t want to get her in trouble with her village by showing up unannounced, but he really wanted to ask her opinion.

So he donned a cloak and grabbed a small bundle he kept essentials in. Hopefully he could just stop by and ask her to visit later, to discuss the Nether. As much as she hated it, she had listened with rapt attention when he talked about his last two visits. He was sure she would flip her lid learning about either Herobrine, the pigmen, or the forest.

The walk to her house took the rest of the morning, and he made a careful approach to her door, weary of any villagers. Luckily there were none around, but he just hoped it would stay that way.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she said in lieu of a greeting. He shrugged.

“Well, I have some information that I think you’ll find relevant to your interests that just couldn’t wait.”

“Well come in then, don’t keep me waiting.” As she ushered him in, she said, “I’m actually glad your here, maybe now I’ll have some time to myself.” He raised a brow, and she amended her statement. “Figuratively. You know what I mean.”

He sat down at her dining table, leaning back in the chair. “What, not all candy and roses being the most popular girl in the village?”

She gave him a deadpan look he chuckled at. “You know very well that while I appreciate that they value my knowledge and skills so much, they’re a bunch of spineless know-it-alls.”

“Ouch. Harsh.”

She shrugged. “It is what it is. Anyway what’s up?”

“I...I was wondering if you knew anything about Herobrine.”

She furrowed her brows. “What brought this up?”

He shrugged, staring at his lap and twiddling his thumbs. “Oh, you know...” When she didn’t respond, he pursed his lips. “Just wondering.”

“Uh huh.” She didn’t sound at all convinced, but she let it slide. “Well, to tell you the truth, not much. Probably about the same as you. He was supposedly a demon or spirit of some sort that would whisk you away if you traveled at night, said to eat the eyes of his victims.” She made a sour face. “I personally don’t put much stock in the myth but I especially don’t believe he ate eyes.”

“Yeah that does seem a little far-fetched.”

“Exactly. But other than that, I don’t think that much is known about him. Not that I’ve seen at least.”

Steve was wholly dissatisfied with her answer. “Nothing about where he came from or why he attacks people?”

She shook her head. “No nothing—actually, it _has_ been a while since I last read anything about him. I guess I could look at the library, if you’d like?”

Steve was so grateful to have a friend like Alex. “Yes, please. And another thing you can add to your research list—in the Nether, I encountered some pigmen who were not zombified.”

She blinked, opening, closing, and then opening her mouth again. “Normal pigmen?”

“Yep. Wearing clothes and everything.”

“Wearing—and you’re telling me this now!?” She stood up and slammed her hands on the table. Steve leaned back more in the chair and stared at her with a small, amused smirk. “Steven, this is very important information you should be telling your best friend!”

He put his hands up. “Sorry, sorry, I had a lot on my mind. But yeah, maybe you can look into if anyone’s reported non-zombie pigmen recently.”

She shook her head, sitting down heavily in her chair and burying her face in her hands. She was muttering to herself and Steve just smiled, until he looked over. His smile dropped when he saw one of the villagers approaching.

“Uh, maybe I should go. Seems like you’re about to have company.” When she looked up he jerked his thumb in the direction of the door. She looked over with a grimace, and then sighed.

“Please don’t go, I really don’t feel like explaining some basic concept to him again.”

“‘Again?’ Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

There was a knock on the door and Alex sighed heavily. “I suppose having you answer the door would be a bad idea?”

“You think?”

She stood, scowling. “This better be good.”

She opened the door, standing in such a way that Steve’s view of the visitor was blocked.

“Hi Lance, what’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you were free, you know, me and the girls are going to take a walk down to the beach, thought I might ask if you wanted to join?”

Steve could only imagine the face Alex was making. “Oh, gee, I’d love to, really, but...” She stepped aside, gesturing towards him. “I have compant right now. Maybe some other time.”

Once Steve became visible to Lance, he gave a fake smile and waved. Lance paled considerably, backing up a little. “O-Oh, y-yeah, maybe—maybe next time.” He backed up several more times before turning around and practically running away.

Alex shut the door, shaking her head. “Sorry. I wish they wouldn’t do that.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said quietly, fiddling with a loose string on his shirt. “I’m used to it.”

“Yeah but...it’s not fair. If they really knew you—“

“I know, okay? Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alex stared at him sadly for a few seconds before she smiled. “Okay. Then let’s talk about something we can both get behind.” He watched her curiously as she entered the kitchen and returned holding two plates. “Cake or pumpkin pie?”

Steve smiled, grateful for the change of subject. “Obviously pumpkin pie.”

Alex scoffed. “The Nether must have messed with your head, because you’re _crazy_ to choose pie over cake.”

Just like that the mood was restored, and when Steve left Alex’s house an hour later, he had a happy stomach and a wrapped slice of pumpkin pie in his bundle. Alex had promised to research his queries, so now all he had to do was wait.

He sighed.

More waiting.

As he walked back home, he couldn’t help but think about what Herobrine had said, and something he’d noticed while visiting Alex.

Both her and Lance had green eyes.

In fact, every village he’d ever visited had villagers with green eyes. Some were darker, nearly black, and some were lighter, almost unnaturally so, and some had something in between, but everyone had green eyes. Is that why everyone avoided him? Because he didn’t have green eyes? Or did it really have to do with having purple eyes, like Herobrine had implied?

He frowned.

He liked his eyes.

He should have asked Alex to research that as well, but it was skirting along the edge of the topic he preferred to ignore. Plus, he didn’t know how to bring it up. _Everyone_ he encountered since he was a young child reacted with either aggression, or fear. Though Alex was different, she _had_ to know why that was the case.

He made it home with plenty of sun left in the day and the same problem as earlier—a restless energy that had no outlet. He paced around his house and glanced at the portal—still broken—until he finally decided he had to do _something_. Even if that something was meager housework.

He cleaned the interior of his house over the course of two days, and when he was satisfied he focused on the little farm he had. It was nothing more than a few plots of wheat and one for carrots, though he didn’t do much with that one except to feed random pigs that wandered close. But he still fixed it all up, pulling weeds and some grass that had grown about. He also fixed the fence that surrounded the plots, which had been griefed by someone a long time ago. Steve had just been too lazy to fix it. He spent another two days building and replacing parts of the fence, happy when he was finally finished at a job well done.

He smacked his hands together to dislodge any dust or dirt from them, and then wiped his face with the hem of his shirt, sighing. It was the fifth day overall of his temporary ban from the Nether, and now that he was done with both inside and outside his house, he dreaded the inevitable boredom that would settle in.

He turned around to head back inside and promptly ran right into something tall and dark. He froze, snapping his eyes shut on instinct with a gasp.

How long had that enderman been there!? He hadn’t even heard it teleport! And why had it been standing _right behind him_?

A few seconds passed wherein nothing happened, so Steve opened his eyes a little, squinting down at the ground. The enderman was still directly in front of him, so Steve took a step back, giving them both some space. Endermen weren’t seen during the day, only briefly in the morning until the sun fully rose, then they would teleport underground. It would be just his luck to have one appear to him now. If it decided to attack he’d be screwed. He didn’t have a weapon currently on him.

Instead of attacking, however, the enderman did something Steve didn’t know was even possible for it—it crouched.

Steve was so shocked by the behavior that he didn’t even realize he was staring right at its face—which was now lower to the ground than Steve was—until he _was_ , and then he gasped again and slammed his eyes shut. His heart was beating loud in his ears and he was tensed up in anticipation of being ripped to shreds, but seconds passed and nothing happened.

He had just looked an enderman in the face and it wasn’t attacking him.

What the hell was going on?

The enderman let out a warble, then another, more insistent one when he kept his eyes closed. His curiosity was burning so much that Steve, almost against his will, opened one eye just a crack. He experimented a look at the enderman, which had stood back up to its full height, and when he wasn’t attacked he opened both eyes fully and looked at it wearily.

The enderman stared back at him with those intense purple eyes, but it didn’t open its mouth or scream. Instead, it turned and took a few long strides over to the portal. Into its hand appeared a piece of obsidian. The _missing_ piece of obsidian. It glanced over at him, as if to make sure he was watching—which he was in incredulity—before sliding the obsidian into place. As soon as the frame was complete, the portal burst to life, like it had never been deactivated.

With a final nod, the enderman teleported away. Steve stayed still and stared at the spot for several moments before he managed to kickstart his brain.

What. The fuck. Was _that!_

Somewhat disturbed by what had just happened, he realized shortly that the portal was back up. Herobrine must have sent that enderman the first time to disable the portal. But now that it was active again, that meant he could return to the Nether.

The day was only half over, so Steve wiped off his face and changed his shirt, then donned some armor. Not the full set, just a chest plate, because he was only planning on hearing Herobrine’s answer, then he would return to gather more supplies as needed. He strapped a bundle filled with some food, torches, the potions of fire resistance Alex had given him, and his map to his hip and a sword on the other side, then entered the portal.

After a few days away, the Nether’s heat was stifling, but he paid little mind to it because Herobrine was waiting with his arms crossed, tapping his foot on the ground.

“I’ve decided to allow you to explore the Nether.”

The biggest grin split Steve’s face. “Really?”

“On some conditions,” Herobrine added, and Steve nodded.

“Of course, anything.”

Herobrine raised a brow but continued on. “One, do not trespass in my fortress.”

“Right, makes sense. I’m sorry I did so in the first place.”

Herobrine’s face remained passive as he said, “Noted. And second, don’t lead ghasts here.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that one. “How...” He trailed off, trying to think of a good way to phrase his next question. “I don’t know much about ghasts, other than the fireball thing. How far is their range?”

“If they can see you, they’ll probably shoot. They’re not very bright, so you could outrun them, or just hide until they fly away. Once they lose sight of you, they lose interest.”

That made Steve feel marginally better about encountering one. “That’s good to know.”

Herobrine stayed silent, staring at him for longer than Steve thought was strictly necessary. Or polite.

“Uh—“

“Are you exploring the Nether without any knowledge about what to expect?” Herobrine asked, cutting him off. Well phrased like that, Steve looked like an idiot.

He felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment as he tried to defend himself. “It’s not like there books about this kind of thing, you know. Not many people have the courage to explore the Nether and then write about it. I know the basics about a variety of nether mobs, enough to know which to avoid and which to not worry about. Like zombie pigmen, if you don’t hit them they won’t attack you.”

“You mean zombie piglins?”

That brought Steve up short. “Piglins?”

Herobrine huffed, looking at him like he was an idiot. He was certainly good enough at making Steve feel like one. “Piglins are those mobs you were spying on in the crimson forest.”

Steve just gave Herobrine a blank look. “Crimson forest?”

Herobrine’s previously passive expression was quickly turning irritated as he sighed. “Okay, let me give you a quick rundown so you don’t get yourself killed. The Nether has five biomes, the Nether wastes, where we are now.” He gestured to the netherrack around them, and almost as an after thought, Steve took out his map and started writing everything Herobrine was saying on the back of it. “The crimson forest, with the red trees. The warped forest, with blue trees. The soul sand valley, and the basalt delta. There’s also a structure called a bastion remnant that you want to avoid at all costs. It’s a large fortress-like building made of blackstone that piglins have made their home.

As for the mobs, there’s the piglins and zombie piglins, hoglins, which are aggressive pigs, essentially, ghasts, regular and wither skeletons, blazes, which only inhabit fortresses, magma cubes, and striders. Oh and endermen.”

It was a lot of information and Steve had several questions, but he had to pick and choose because he didn’t know how long Herobrine would entertain him. “Striders?”

“Passive mobs that can walk on lava. You can also ride them, if you have warped fungus.” What the fuck was warped fungus?

“And endermen come to the Nether?”

“Yes, you can see them pretty much everywhere but they prefer warped forests.”

“And that’s the one with the blue trees...” he muttered to himself, reviewing his notes.

“Right. That should be enough to prevent your death through conventional means—anything that happens is on you now.” Herobrine turned away, paused, and turned back. “One last thing—“ And Herobrine stepped closer and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, shaking him a little and looking intensely into his eyes. “Do not _ever_ sleep in a bed here.”

“Why—“

“Just. Don’t.”

“O...kay?”

Herobrine stepped back and nodded. “Other than that, have fun.” With that, he took his leave, and Steve was finally left alone to start his exploration in earnest.


	4. When your hands don’t work like they used to before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we’re all on the same page here, I do plan on increasing the rating of this fic for graphic violence and sexual situations. Not entirely sure when, although this chapter does start getting a little into some violence. Ideally, Steve will always have some sort of injury over the course of this fic ;_; poor guy lol
> 
> Enjoy!

It took Steve longer than he would have liked to become accustomed to exploring the Nether. Actually, he’d say that he still had a lot of learning to do.

The embarrassing thing was that he was struggling not so much with the mobs as he was with the general environment. He constantly found himself turned around or put in a position that allowed mobs to inadvertently team up on him. It frustrated him but his brain couldn’t seem to multitask. He’d be so busy fighting one mob that he would leave his back exposed.

Luckily his armor protected him, though with how sloppy he’d been these last several days, he’d already had to go back to the Overworld and repair it.

The worst injury he’d received so far was a burn along his forearm from brief contact with a magma slime. It had been his first time fighting a large one and its jump had surprised him, leaving the mob free to get close enough to graze his arm with its body. It wasn’t bad, barely a discernible mark now, but it was a good reminder of why he needed to be more careful than he normally would.

In the Overworld it was the same mobs and the same fights—dodge, swipe, dodge, kill. Or swipe, dodge, kill. Each mob had a rhythm that Steve was well versed in. He hadn’t developed that for the Nether mobs and it showed.

The worst were the wither skeletons, the only mobs that got a free pass to wander Herobrine’s fortress. He had wanted to ask what was up with that, but he had not seen Herobrine since the man had allowed him to freely explore the Nether, and he didn’t want to risk yelling and agitating Herobrine just to get an answer, so he dealt with them as he needed. It wasn’t often, but sometimes they would stray to the walkway that connected with the netherrack closest to Steve’s portal, and Steve, not knowing they were there, would wander close enough to aggravate them. They were fast and strong, and—as he learned during one unfortunate encounter—infected him with some sort of weakening affliction that thankfully only lasted a few seconds but still scared the hell out of him. It hadn’t happened the very first time so he was alarmed when his sword was suddenly too heavy for him to lift and the small cut on his arm had had a dark purplish, almost black tint to it. Luckily the wither skeleton had been dead already, or he would have been in real trouble, and the purple-black had faded away, like a rapidly healed bruise. But even with all that, they were still just skeletons, and usually fell if he got two good hits in, three if he wasn’t careful.

But overall, he could say that he was enjoying his time. He had thoroughly explored the area immediately around the portal and found nothing noteworthy, only a white ore he knew to be quartz. He had a small amount stored in a double chest he had brought over, alongside a crafting bench. He normally would have brought a bed but considering Herobrine’s warning, had not.

The farthest he had ventured out was to the crimson forest he had discovered before. Since Herobrine had so rudely interrupted him the last time, he had resumed observing the piglins, though from a distance as he learned that they were not the friendly type. They might look smarter than their zombie counterparts, but they were just as brutish and single-minded as the zombie piglins were. Only difference was Steve didn’t have to hit them to aggravate them. So yeah, he kept his distance while watching them.

And they were _fascinating_. There definitely was some level of intelligence to them, especially when they hunted down the hoglins Steve had seen running about the crimson forest. He hadn’t personally approached one yet, but only because he had seen one ram into and then toss a piglin like it weighed nothing so, Herobrine’s note about it being an ‘aggressive pig’ was apt and kept Steve away. Though he did make note that hoglin meat looked just like pork, so they were a possible food source. It was a thought that made Steve feel uneasy because he never wanted to be desperate enough to hunt hoglins for _food_ but—just in case. He would have to strive not to let things get that bad.

Presently, he was returning from a visit to the crimson forest, inspecting one of those large, red mushrooms and debating on whether or not it was edible, when he heard the tell-tale rattle of skeleton bones. He frowned and pocketed the mushroom for later, unsheathing his sword instead and approaching his portal with caution. He kept his eyes peeled, taking deep breaths to help calm his racing heart. It could be a regular skeleton, but it was probably a wither skeleton.

Sure enough, as soon as he arrived at the little bit of netherrack connecting the island with his portal to the rest of the Nether, he saw a wither skeleton standing on the hill blocking the fortress from view. Steve eyed it with a frown, wondering if he could make a run for it.

He heard a sudden rattling behind him and turned around just in time, sword up on instinct. A second wither skeleton bared down on him, putting all its strength into trying to overpower him. Steve didn’t have the best grip on his sword on account of being surprised, and he could feel his wrist and arm aching from the awkward angle. Gritting his teeth, he pushed with all his strength, forcing the wither skeleton back and giving himself some breathing room. It didn’t last long, as the wither skeleton rushed right back in to attack.

For how scary he found them, they at least had a predictable attack pattern. It was like they were always set on ‘go.’ As soon as he was within range, they attacked with a single-mindedness that rivaled a piglin. But with how strong they were, and coupled with the strange poison they could infect him with, he considered them the more dangerous mob. He had seen piglins run from zombie piglins. He had yet to see a wither skeleton run from anything.

The wither skeleton attacked and he parried, again and again until he saw an opening and swung at it. They were tall and, for being so fast, not extremely agile, so it couldn’t dodge his attack. His sword slid home right between two of its ribs, embedding into its spine. He grinned in triumph, at least until the skeleton stepped back and his sword went with it, wrenched right out of his hand.

He stared open-mouthed at the wither skeleton as it stared down at the sword poking through its ribcage, then seemed to snap out of it and lunged for him. He cursed and ducked, then rolled out of the way and backed up a few steps, mindful of the ledge.

Well, shit.

He looked around but it was futile and he knew it. There was nothing which could help him and he had no other weapons on him. The wither skeleton was again momentarily distracted by the sword it seemed to remember was stuck in its spine, so Steve looked at his portal, sitting innocently about twenty feet away. If he could just get to it...

The rattling brought his attention back to the wither skeleton rushing toward him. He took a step back but the edge of the netherrack was right there, at the bottom of which was lava. He’d have to—

An idea popped into his head. It would cost him his sword, but at least the mob would be dealt with. He grimaced and crouched a bit, waiting for the right moment. Once the wither skeleton was practically on top of him, he ducked under its swing and ran behind it, turning swiftly to kick it as hard as he could. It wobbled comically before losing the battle with gravity and falling over the edge. Well, he hadn’t been planning on returning to the Overworld quite so soon but he’d definitely need a new sword.

Relieved to have that dealt with, he felt his heart drop when he heard more rattling approaching. He turned around and sighed at the sight of the first wither skeleton he’d seen rushing toward him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered to himself, but he was still near the edge and there was no reason for the same tactic not to work again. So he crouched a little and waited, until the wither skeleton was almost bearing down on him, and made the move to duck under its swing.

Only it didn’t swing high.

Startled by the low sweep of the mob’s sword, Steve was barely able to jump back enough to avoid getting his head chopped off. He backed up on instinct but was trapped by the knowledge of the edge behind him. He couldn’t back up.

The wither skeleton raised its sword and swung it down, meant to cleave him right in half, and Steve did something really stupid on a whim to stay alive.

He raised both hands and caught the sword. The jagged edge of the stone blade immediately bit into his palms and fingers, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Any other formidable blade and he’d probably lose functionality of his hands. As it was, he could feel a deep but ultimately non-life threatening cut slowly being sliced into his skin. It stung like a motherfucker and brought tears to his eyes, but he held on. At least, until he started feeling that weakness spreading through his hands and arms. They were starting to feel like anvils strapped to his shoulders. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long.

Then the wither skeleton _pulled_.

He might have passed out for all that he was aware of his surroundings. The pain was immense, a stinging pulse with every beat of his heart. He dropped to his knees with a pained gasp, cradling his bleeding hands to his chest. Eyes closed and teeth grit, he did his best to ride out the pain.

When he came back to himself what felt like hours later, he looked up with vision made blurry by tears and saw an enderman standing in front of him, facing away. Several feet in front of it and standing still, the wither skeleton was staring at him. He shuddered and stood on shaky legs, looking between the two of them. It was remarkably like his first encounter with a wither skeleton, though Herobrine was nowhere to be seen. He wondered if it would be better or worse if Herobrine had been the one to rescue him. On the one hand, Steve would be incredibly grateful. On the other, he didn’t want Herobrine to see him as more of the pathetic fool he probably already thought Steve was. So perhaps it was for the best the enderman was here.

His instincts were telling him to look away, but he couldn’t help but stare in awe at the enderman that had apparently rescued him. This was the second enderman in under a week that he was able to look at and not get attacked. Maybe it was the same enderman as the one who’d fixed his portal? It was impossible to tell them apart, so he couldn’t be sure, but if it _wasn’t_ then why, now, was he suddenly able to look upon them without repercussion?

Whatever the reason, he was grateful. His hands were practically useless, sending a jolt of pain up his arms every time he so much as twitched a finger. He didn’t think they would suffer permanent damage, but he didn’t want to risk making it worse.

Figuring the enderman would be able to handle the wither skeleton, Steve took a step toward his portal. He jumped when the wither skeleton suddenly rushed at him. With a soft noise, the enderman disappeared and Steve suffered a mini heart attack, thinking himself abandoned, before it reappeared behind the wither skeleton, grabbed it, and disappeared again. Steve couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing through his head, but after several minutes of heart-pounding nothingness, Steve speed-walked to the portal.

It was late when he arrived back in the Overworld. He frowned, pausing to watch the crescent moon. It was hard to tell time while in the Nether, but his internal clock was telling him it should be evening at the latest. Not close to midnight like it was.

He entered his house and washed his hands gently, then dried and wrapped them, wincing the whole time. Both hands were that purplish-black tint, darker than he’d seen it before. It had spread over his wrists and faded into his normal skin tone along his forearms. He could barely lift them without feeling like he was going to strain something doing so. He wished he had a potion, but he’d already drank the one Alex had given him his first day in the Nether and he had no other way of acquiring one, not unless Alex was willing to slip him one. Which she probably would, because he had gotten the damn nether wart for her, but he wasn’t going to go ask her now. It’d have to wait until morning.

Once his hands were as good as they were going to get, he removed his armor and his clothes with much difficulty, lamenting the blood splatters on his shirt and pants. In the morning he’d have to take the time to try and remove that, but he’s had enough for the day. Now that his body knew what time it was, and the adrenaline was leaving, he was hit by a bout of exhaustion. Yawning, he threw on some pajamas and crawled into bed.

His sleep was fitful as his hands twitched and ached, keeping him on the cusp of sleep. By the time morning rolled around and the sun shone through the windows, he’d taken to laying on his back and staring in a daze at the ceiling, letting his eyes fall shut every so often before being yanked from sleep again by a twinge of pain.

He spent longer than normal in bed like that, only rising when the sun was practically at it’s zenith. He felt lethargic and his hands ached, the muscles stiff. When he changed the filthy and bled-through bandages, the skin of his hands was still discolored. It made making breakfast more difficult and tiresome than it had a right to be, so he gave up and had bread warmed in the furnace instead.

When he was done, he sat at the table with his forehead pressed into the cool wood. There were things he needed to do today that he couldn’t quite force himself to get started on. He didn’t have the energy. At the back of his mind, some inner voice was yelling that the discoloration from the wither skeletons had never lasted this long, but he was too tired and in too much discomfort to care.

Finally he convinced himself that he was wasting daylight, so he dragged himself into some proper clothes and took stock of his inventory.

He had one well used iron sword and one iron ingot. Great.

At least he could use the ingot to reinforce the old blade, but his armor would have to wait to be repaired, which was fine anyway. It wasn’t on its last leg or anything dire like that, he just preferred to have it in top shape at all times—at least when it came to the Nether. If he was staying in the Overworld, he wouldn’t care to keep it so pristine. So it still had a while before he felt like it would start becoming a liability. But the sword would have been a lost cause if not for the iron ingot. He counted himself lucky.

What normally would have taken less than thirty minutes took him close to two hours. Mostly because the single iron ingot felt like it weighed the same as a building. He didn’t even nudge it the first few times he tried lifting it, then eventually was able to get it into the furnace. After that, he had to struggle to get the sword onto the anvil, which left him panting and shaking from the effort. When the iron was melted, he used the tongs from his smithing table to pour the liquid iron onto the sword, an endeavor which sent molten iron splattering in small blobs onto his wooden floor and walls, quickly burning small holes through them. He had to ignore it to focus on not dropping the bowl of heated iron entirely and setting his house on fire. Finally once the iron was poured and cooled a little, he used a hammer to spread the new, thin layer of iron over the old. It was a shit patch job, but the sword would no longer break after a single use, so he counted it as a win.

After the sword was done, he felt completely drained of energy. Most of the day was gone and he hadn’t even done anything. But he couldn’t help it. He just felt so tired.

Almost on autopilot, he crawled into bed and curled up under the covers, keeping his hands spread out next to his head. They pulsed in time with his heart, a deep ache that made it hard to think about anything else. They felt constricted by the bandages, hot and swollen. He stared at them until his eyes grew heavy, and fell into a light sleep.

He dozed on and off until a sound like a thump woke him to full consciousness. Groggy, he sat up and looked around, but nothing was out of the ordinary. The sun outside had set and he hadn’t lit his torches during the day, so he was able to barely make out the dark figure standing outside his door. He thought maybe it was a zombie or creeper, but then the darkness shifted and two glowing purple eyes came into view.

Another enderman? Or...the same enderman?

With a sigh, Steve got out of bed and crossed over to the door, opening it after a little hesitation. The enderman backed up and trilled at him and, encouraged, he stepped outside. It wasn’t too cold, but he still shivered.

The enderman was standing by the portal. Steve walked up to it, brows furrowed in confusion. The mob gestured to the portal and Steve bit his lip, glancing back at his house. Should he get his supplies? The thought of hefting the armor up and onto him was extremely unpleasant, but at the very least he could grab his sword and bundle.

He made a step toward his house and the enderman made a loud sound, teleporting in front of him. Steve blinked and stepped back, eyeing the mob wearily but, like before, it didn’t attack even after prolonged eye contact. That fact still boggled his mind.

He took a step to the side and the enderman mirrored him, blocking him from getting to his house. He huffed and moved to cross his arms but the motion stretched at the skin of his hands, pulling a hiss from him. He dropped his arms back down.

“I just want to grab my things,” he tried reasoning, but the enderman just stared down at him. Then it surprised him by shaking its head and pointing to the portal.

Well, he didn’t think he was going to win this argument. “Okay, okay.” With one last glance at his house and thinking of what a bad idea this was but not having the strength to fight it, he walked through the portal.

There wasn’t anything waiting on the other side, which mildly surprised him, but it was for the best. After a few seconds the enderman came through, then got his attention and pointed at the ground.

At his blank expression, the enderman made a sound and pointed at him, then at the ground again.

“You...want me here? Oh, you want me to stay here?”

The enderman nodded and disappeared without another...er, gesture.

Left to his own devices, Steve sat on his double chest and sighed. With nothing better to do but wait, he inspected his hands. They didn’t look or feel any better than earlier, but the bandages hadn’t been bled through yet. He took that as a good sign.

“...”

He looked up, wondering what got his attention. He must just be hearing things. He’d noticed that the Nether did that sometimes. He could swear he heard whispers or shuffling but there was nothing ever there.

“...”

It came again and sounded...different. He stood up, heart hammering. He was defenseless in a hostile environment. He should have at least grabbed his sword. He ignored the voice inside telling him he wouldn’t have been any better off with a sword if he could barely lift it.

“...”

“Who’s there?” He said, trying to sound strong. His voice only trembled a little and he was very proud of that.

“...”

It sounded like it was coming from the direction the fortress was. As friendly as that enderman was being, he didn’t want to piss it off by leaving the portal, so he walked as close to the edge as he felt comfortable and strained his hearing, waiting to hear it again.

All that he heard was the ambient sounds of the Nether. Whatever had been making that sound had stopped. Steve felt a terrible dread that there was some unknown creature lurking about, trying to bait him. He stumbled away from the edge, suddenly sure something was going to reach over and drag him down into the lava.

He sat back down on the double chest, and that’s when the enderman reappeared, Herobrine beside it. Seeing Herobrine brought him a little back to reality. Herobrine had told him about all the mobs that existed in the Nether. He wouldn’t leave one out. There wasn’t anything out there, just his tired mind playing tricks on him.

Once Herobrine saw him, he scowled, glaring at the enderman. The enderman made several noises that Steve assumed was speech, and pointed at him. Herobrine seemed to understand the enderman because his next look was not so irritated. Instead he looked like his normal passive self, this time with maybe a hint of concern.

Herobrine walked over to him and held out his hand. Without thought, Steve carefully lifted one of his hands to place in Herobrine’s, but the other didn’t haul him to his feet like he’d been expecting. Instead Herobrine inspected his hand, turning it to be palm face up and rubbing his thumb gently over the bandages.

“What happened?”

He didn’t sound angry or irritated, just curious. Steve wet his lips before answered, staring at his hand in Herobrine’s.

“I was fighting a wither skeleton. My sword got caught in its ribcage. I managed to push it over the edge but a second wither skeleton rushed me. I tried to do the same thing, but it surprised me. It—It was going to cut me down so I grabbed the sword with my hands.” He brought up his second hand for emphasis. “It wasn’t that bad until it yanked the sword out of my grip. I’m not sure exactly what happened next, but an enderman appeared and took that wither skeleton away.”

Herobrine had adopted a frown during his explanation, and hummed when he was finished. He unraveled the bandage on the hand in his grip. “You’ve been infected with wither.”

“Wither?”

Herobrine nodded. “It’s what’s turning your hands black. Normally it only lasts a few seconds if you get it from a wither skeleton, but something about your wound has made it worse this time.” Abruptly, Herobrine let go of his hand and turned around. “Follow me.”

Stumped by the sudden change of pace, Steve stumbled to his feet and followed after Herobrine. Only a few steps in and he heard shuffling behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see the enderman following after them.

What was up with these endermen? Why were they being nice and why weren’t they attacking him? Maybe Herobrine could help him out a little.

He quickened his pace until he was next to Herobrine. “Can I ask you a question?” Herobrine grunted in a way that seemed to be acceptance, so Steve asked, “Do you know why the endermen are being nice?”

Herobrine snorted, giving him a look that again made Steve feel like an idiot. “Not endermen. Ender _man_.”

“So...it _is_ the same enderman? But that still doesn’t answer my question as to why.”

Herobrine shrugged. “I can’t say for certain. Originally I asked it to disable your portal until I was ready to give you an answer. Why it stuck around after and why it’s helping you...” Herobrine trailed off, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Steve was unsatisfied with that answer, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. The enderman had saved his life once already. He could at least try and give it the benefit of the doubt.

Steve let silence settle between them as Herobrine lead them down into the fortress, easily navigating the maze like hallways with purpose. Another thing he’d been wondering popped into his mind and he asked, “Did you tell it to bring me here?”

“No, it brought your condition to my attention. Good thing too, I don’t know how you were handling that much wither on your own, on top of having your hands sliced open.”

Steve grimaced, staring at his unbandaged hand. The cuts were ugly but no longer bleeding. “Not very well.”

“Wither is no joke, if you become infected with it like this again, tell me.”

Steve felt a prickle of irritation at that. “What am I supposed to do, yell for your attention?” 

They stopped in front of a set of double doors. Probably the same ones Herobrine had lead him to the first time he was here, but Steve couldn’t be sure. Everything inside the fortress looked the same.

Herobrine turned to look at him but instead of being outright angry, he appeared to at least try and hold it in, only letting a frown show on his features. “The wither skeletons should not have been that far out. For that I’m sorry. And in the future, if you are similarly injured then I give you permission to come find me.”

The anger that had started to simmer under his skin abruptly went out. If Herobrine could apologize for something that ultimately wasn’t his fault _and_ offer to help him in the future, then Steve could at least thank him and be done with it.

“T-Thank you. Uh, I—I’ll try not to let myself get hurt so bad again, though. It’s—It’s not your responsibility to see to my health.”

Herobrine studied him with a raised brow before bowing his head. “Come on, I have something that will help with the wither.”

Herobrine pushed through one of the doors and held it open for him. He walked through and didn’t know what to expect but it definitely wasn’t this.

He’d expected a grand room fit for a king, but...he could have walked into any villager’s house, or even his own. Though the walls were an unusal red color and there were no windows, it still perfectly imitated the inside of a simple wooden house—if a bit bigger than normal.

Herobrine pointed to a bench on one side of the room. “Sit down and relax. I will return shortly.”

Steve did as told and sat as Herobrine exited the room through a door on the opposite side. He looked around but there was nothing special—it truly did look like the inside of a regular house. It was a little jarring to go from the red stone outside to full wood inside, but everyone had an aesthetic, he supposed. Considering Herobrine was seemingly stuck in the Nether, he couldn’t blame the guy for wanting a taste of the Overworld.

Though, one thing caught his eye. He hadn’t seen it at first because of how naturally dark the room was, but there was a pickaxe made of some black material hanging on the wall beside the door Herobrine had gone through. It reflected the minimal light the redstone torches around the room emitted, so it was made of metal, but he had never seen a black metal before. He wondered what it was.

He realized that the enderman wasn’t in the room. Was it outside? He hadn’t noticed how far it had followed them. Or why it was even following them—er, _him_ —in the first place. Why was it apparently watching him and why was it rescuing him? Not that he was complaining, but he was tired of feeling so out of the loop. There was a lot going on that he didn’t know about, and though he got the feeling that Herobrine knew more than he was letting on, he couldn’t think of a way to get the other to spill the beans. But he sure would like to know what the fuck his life had turned into.

After a few minutes Herobrine returned holding a potion bottle. Steve eyed it apprehensibly. The liquid inside was black.

Herobrine walked over and handed it to him. “Here. Drink.”

Steve took the potion and grimaced. “Do I—“

“Yes.”

Steve sighed and uncapped the bottle. He brought it up and smelled it, expecting a horrible smell but it only smelled like plants. Still, not appealing. But the smell made it easier for him to take a drink.

The potion was thicker than any other he’d had and contained chunks of something Steve did _not_ want to think too hard about, but he managed to swallow all of it. Like all potions, the effects were instantaneous—the discolored tint on his hands receded and though they still hurt from the cuts, he felt strength in them and his arms again.

He smiled, looking up at Herobrine. “Thank you, really. I feel a lot better now.”

Herobrine nodded. “I would offer you a potion of healing, for your cuts, but I’m afraid I don’t have any.”

Steve stood up and handed the empty bottle back to Herobrine. “Oh, that’s okay. They’ll heal in no time. Now that the wither is gone, it doesn’t hurt as bad as before.”

“Good. Now, I’ll escort you out.”

Steve stifled another smiled. It was kinda funny how private Herobrine was. As soon as Steve’s problem was fixed, Herobrine gave him the boot. But Steve didn’t mind too much—he understood what it meant to be weary of others and suspicious of their intentions. He had gone through it with Alex. Herobrine would just have to learn that Steve held no ill intentions toward him.

The enderman wasn’t in the hallway, but it was on the walkway above the stairs. Herobrine seemed pleased to see it.

“Can you lead him out?”

The enderman nodded, and Herobrine turned to him. “Remember, if you’re injured, you can come find me. But only if it’s an emergency. And I will keep the wither skeletons away from here, to avoid any potential encounters like this again.”

Steve did feel grateful about that. He hated wither skeletons. “Thanks, I really appreciate that. And thanks again for the potion.”

“Don’t mention it,” Herobrine dismissed flippantly, then disappeared suddenly, leaving Steve and the enderman alone.

“Okay.” He looked at the enderman, knowing that it was a bad habit because this enderman might be okay with it but that didn’t mean _others_ would be, but he thought it would be rude not to.

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O
> 
> Steve’s got an enderman friend! There’s no way that can go wrong :)


	5. How could this happen to me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You make your mistakes, got nowhere to run, but the night goes on.
> 
> ...
> 
> Here’s another chapter, this one including blood and stuff so, fair warning.
> 
> Also Herobrine’s POV for a little bit! There will be more of that slotted into the story here and there. 
> 
> Enjoy :D

Herobrine had a problem.

...Okay, it could be said that Herobrine had _many_ problems, but at this particular moment, he had one, decidedly human problem.

He had been perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life never seeing a human again, when one had just happened to literally run into him. Since then, he could admit that he was...curious. From what little conversation they’d had, Steve’s personal life was something Herobrine was intimately familiar with. He had never met a human shunned by the inhabitants of the Overworld before. That was obviously the reason behind Herobrine’s interest in this human—their likeness and nothing more.

He sighed.

**Is there something on your mind you’d like to talk about?**

The soft, indescribable voice washed over him and he repressed a shiver. That tone had ceased to send his heart into overdrive in fear, but the voice itself was so _off_ he couldn’t help his reaction. It was almost like his ears weren’t meant to hear it. He supposed it was something he’d never get used to, even after all these years.

“I don’t know if I can explain it in a way you’d understand,” he said. He was currently laying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling and attempting to rest, so he lifted his head to look at the only other occupant in the room as he spoke.

The Wither hummed. It was floating in the middle of the room, content to remain stationary. All three of its heads were pointed at him. Once upon a time that would have made him uneasy. Now he knew it just meant the Wither was listening to him.

**Is it about the human you’ve been talking to?**

Herobrine frowned, feeling ridiculously like a child caught doing something he’d been told not to do. But the Wither didn’t control him—well, not about this, at least. 

“How do you know about him?”

The Wither made a sound that might have been a laugh, and Herobrine sat up fully, crossing his legs. He had to crane his neck back to see it properly.

**My skeletons might have mentioned something.**

Herobrine rolled his eyes but remained silent, wrapping his arms around his legs. He swore those damn skeletons were much too gossipy for their own good. Personally he’d always thought they shared a hive mind, but he didn’t have proof of that, and the Wither was all too happy to spin tales that sometimes supported and sometimes contradicted his suspicion, leaving him without answers. Though that was hardly a surprise—he’d be lucky to have the Wither actually answer a single question seriously.

**And...**

Herobrine looked up, surprised the Wither was continuing. It was usually content to let the conversation die out.

**...I can sense the Void, when he’s here.**

Herobrine clenched his jaw, turning his head to glare at the wall.

Damn it.

He had known that Steve was spawn of either the Aether or the Void—the purple eyes were indicator enough and he had even told Steve as such—but he had been hoping, way deep down, that it was the Aether. That would make it easier to hate him, to keep his distance and distrust him. But it appeared they were even more similar than he’d originally thought. One fallen from grace to obtain power from the Void and one born soaked in it.

**Does this information upset you?**

The Wither sure was chatty today. Herobrine had never heard it speak so much in one day. And of course it was about Herobrine’s...problem.

“I wanted it to.”

**I see.**

Herobrine lessened his glare when he looked at the Wither, but only its middle head was gazing back at him. Oh, so now it was done with their conversation?

**I think you should get to know him better. It appears that you two have much in common. And I would like to meet him. In time.**

Herobrine had to ruthlessly suppress the urge to be sarcastic. He liked being alive, thank you, and no amount of camaraderie would prevent the Wither from acting appropriately if it felt ridiculed. He didn’t have a death wish.

Instead he let out a slow breath and cast his gaze down. He didn’t respond, but the Wither wasn’t looking at him anymore.

Without another word, he stood and left. He had more thinking to do.

* * *

Steve’s hands healed well enough. There were red fleshy scars, on the meat of both palms and across the insides of his fingers, and sometimes when he clenched them or gripped something too tightly they twinged in pain, but he could hold a sword without it hurting too much and deemed himself ready to return to the Nether.

He had forbidden himself from returning after Herobrine had healed the wither affliction, even though the time spent in the Overworld was excruciatingly boring. Alex had not visited him during his self-imposed time out, and with his hands injured he didn’t want to risk getting into trouble at her village. So he ‘suffered’ in silence, so to speak.

Something that he found himself thinking a lot about was his new enderman friend. He had never seen a mob, let alone an _enderman_ , behave the way it was. Letting him look at it without attacking? Saving him from another mob? It was unheard of! It was unnatural!

It was awesome!

He just wished he could talk to it, but that was asking for too much, and he’d take what he could get. But while he’d been in the Overworld, it hadn’t visited. Steve wouldn’t say he was _hurt_ about that fact, but he was definitely disappointed. It was cool to have a friendly mob as a companion, especially one with such a reputation as an enderman.

But he just had to bide his time and eventually his thirst for adventure became strong enough to overpower any doubts he might have about traversing a dangerous environment with almost healed hand injuries. Besides, he could hold and swing a sword with no problems.

So he donned his armor and tied his sword and bundle of torches, food, and the fire resistance potion around his waist and stepped through the portal.

The hot air blasted him when he stepped back out, but it was comforting, like a hug from the Nether itself. He wondered if that was a good thing—that the heat no longer felt stifling—before shaking the though away and focusing.

Because today he was going to explore until he found something _new_.

He’d thoroughly explored the nether wastes surrounding his portal and the crimson forest he frequented, and now he felt he was ready for a new challenge. He didn’t care if it was the other forest or the large building Herobrine had warned him about. He’d take anything at this point.

Normally, when he went to the crimson forest, his path was fairly linear. There was only one area that split off in another direction—the clearing with the pigmen. He always went right, to get to the forest. This time when he arrived at it, he went left, starting another torch trail to keep track of the way back.

The terrain stayed the same for a long stretch, long enough that Steve was about to give up. He only had six torches left and that was way lower than he felt comfortable with. Most of the way was him walking on a raised platform in between a lava river and a netherrack wall that reach the ceiling, so the torches might have been redundant, but he knew himself well enough to know that his dumbass could still get lost.

Just when he was about to give up, he spotted a difference in color up ahead. There was a bend coming up, the river and wall curving left slightly before, he assumed, continuing forward. The bend in the wall blocked his view of what might be on his right. A few feet ahead, large patches of soul sand spotted the ground. Suddenly excited to see something new, he rushed forward.

He slowed when he reached the bend, mindful of the soul sand, and peaked around the corner, only to gape with a large smile in amazement at the sight before him.

It was a huge area that was mostly open and absolutely _covered_ in soul sand. To his left, the lava river turned into a lava-fall, dropping into a large lava ocean. To his right, rolling hills of soul sand. There was a bluish fog obscuring the area and blue fires scattered here and there. It was hard to believe he was still in the Nether, more so than when he’d seen the crimson forest for the first time. At least _that_ was red.

He took a few steps before he felt the ground give a little. Oh yeah. Soul sand. He stopped and looked around, spotting a different pattern in the sand that looked firmer. He tried to run over to it, but the soul sand rose up with each step he took, attempting to weigh him down. He steadfastly ignored that the sand looked like a dozen anguished faces and focused on reaching his goal.

After not too long his foot made contact with the different sand and when he met no resistance in trying to walk, he silently cheered in victory and continued on.

For the most part he was able to walk on the firmer sand, though he had to run through a patch or two of regular soul sand. Which normally would be okay, but, as it turned out, there were an abundance of regular skeletons that took pot shots at him every chance they got. His armor protected him, though he had to duck on one occasion or get an arrow to the face. That skeleton he dealt with out of spite, but the rest were easy to avoid.

He was walking along a wall, placing his torches as far apart as he could and still see them, when he saw a large white...something in the distance. As he got closer, he realized with a sense of awe that it was a massive rib cage.

The creature that belonged to must have been huge! He made his way over, having to walk through more soul sand than he would have like because the giant skeleton was embedded in it, but it was worth it.

The rib cage was set in the ground at an angle, the sternum on the same level Steve was. It was easily twice his size, making the ribs longer than he could make sense of. He didn’t even want to envision what kind of creature could be this big and exist in the Nether. It must have been terrifying.

He walked around the bones for a moment, struggling through the soul sand, when a series of whispers assaulted his ears. Startled, he put his back to the sternum and brandished his sword, but a few seconds later the whispers dissipated. His heart was beating so fast it was making him dizzy and he realized his arm holding the sword was shaking. Letting out a breath, he loosened his grip and winced when his hand throbbed in protest.

Those whispers had reminded him of when the enderman had made him wait while it fetched Herobrine. He had been sure that a large beast was going to grab him, luring him to the edge with barely audible whispers. Suddenly the ribcage didn’t seem all that awesome.

He stepped around it, deciding to continue on, when a loud piercing scream made him jump. A fireball hit the ground in front of him, too sudden for him to avoid it. The blast threw him into the sternum behind him. He cursed as his head banged around in the helmet, and then there was a sharp _crack!_ For one heart stopping moment he thought he might have broken something, but when he moved, part of his armor moved awkwardly in response and he realized _it_ must have cracked. Not great, he thought, feeling a give to his chestplate and leggings, but better than a broken bone.

Shaking his head, he looked up at the sound of another scream. With wide eyes he watched a fireball sail right at him. He tried to run, but the soul sand gripped onto his shoes, like grasping fingers pulling him down. Gasping as the fireball neared, he threw himself to the side, covering his head as the sand exploded just a few feet from him.

His heart was racing and his arms, when he propped himself up on them, were shaking. Adrenaline was making his heart work overtime. He looked over his shoulder to the ghast attacking him. It was facing away, but suddenly turned and opened its eyes and mouth wide, shooting another fireball at him.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself onto his knees and drew his sword, holding it at the ready. At the last possible moment, when he could feel the burning heat across his face, he swung his sword and hit the fireball, deflecting it away. 

Unfortunately it was not anywhere close to the ghast, who didn’t let him recover before blasting at him again. He sighed and held his sword up, stumbling to his feet. He was not in the mood to deal with a ghast.

He deflected a series of fireballs while inching his way off the soul sand, eager to get some distance between him and the ghast. It had taken to floating a set distance away, not getting closer but not flying away either. He knew he needed to get to cover, to break the ghast’s line of sight, but the damn soul sand was hindering his plan.

Finally he made it to the firmer sand and took off in a run, back the way he’d came. He could hear the ghast’s screams as it gave chase, fireballs exploding to his left and right. It’s screams sent shivers down his spine as he tried to dodge, a mantra of _fuck fuck fuck_ playing on repeat through his head.

One fireball hit the ground at his feet and he jumped with a yell as the ground gave out, finally crossing between biomes to the nether waste he’d been traveling through. He landed with an _oof_ on his stomach and looked back with wide eyes as the ghast stopped and fired another shot at him. He gasped and scrambled to his feet, hastily bringing his sword up to deflect the shot. He got lucky. The ghast was moving too quickly in a collision course with the fireball to correct itself, and was hit smack in the face. It fell with a dying scream as its body disintegrated, dusting the sand with ashes.

Steve was barely through a relieved breath before a second, _way-too-close_ scream came from behind him. He didn’t even have time to turn around before a fireball slammed into his back.

The force of the hit knocked him forward. He didn’t have time to bring his hands up to catch himself, and closed his eyes in anticipation as his forehead hit the ground hard.

His vision swam and his head throbbed as he groaned and tried to roll onto his side. He stopped with a pained yell as something burned in his lower back, a sharp, stabbing pain that radiated along his right side. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and reached a shaking hand back to feel what was wrong. He got as far as feeling bent iron meeting flesh before a scream reminded him of his situation. He made to move but again, the pain stopped him. _Get up_ , he thought to himself, gritting his teeth and pressing his palms to the netherrack, _get up now!_

He rolled to the side as the fireball slammed into the ground he’d just been on, pelting him with bits of netherrack. The stabbing pain became excruciating as he settled on his back. He could feel it like this, the bent piece of what could only be his chestplate digging into his lower back, thankfully to the right of his spine but tearing through the muscle where it entered him.

Moving his right arm hurt more than moving his left, so he transferred his sword to his left hand, holding it up to deflect another fireball. The ghast was floating above where the lava river turned into the lava-fall, while he was laying at the base of the part of the netherrack wall that created the bend. The ghast was keeping itself still as it fired fireball after fireball at him, and though Steve was able to deflect each one, his aim was completely shot. Some hit the wall towering above him, some careened off over the lava river, hitting the far wall. Some sailed past the ghast who paid them no mind, intent on him and him alone.

He was getting tired and he knew he wasn’t going to keep it up forever. His arm was shaking badly and his side was one pulsing point of pain, only getting worse each time he moved. His vision kept blurring every few seconds and he knew it was only a matter of time.

The ghast shot a fireball that went a little high and Steve swiped at it on instinct. It hit the edge of his sword and went shooting up, exploding high against the netherrack wall he was practically pressed against. He stared with wide eyes as a section of the wall slowly started to come loose from itself, until a sizable chunk dislodged itself and slammed into the ground directly between him and the ghast, so close he had to quickly draw in his legs to avoid them getting crushed. The ghast’s screams slowly tapered off into soft cries that eventually faded as it flew away, no longer interested in him.

Heart pounding and blood rushing through his ears, he let out a sigh and let himself go limp.

Great, one problem solved, one problem to go.

He stared up at the netherrack ceiling and just focused on breathing, though even that hurt. He had to take shallow breaths to avoid stretching his body around the piece of iron embedded in him. He grimaced, lips trembling as he swallowed down the urge to vomit. His vision was still blurring from his his faceplant, and now that he could focus on something other than keeping himself alive, he could feel something wet drip its way down his face. He brought a shaky hand up and wiped haphazardly across his cheek. His fingers came away bloody.

Despite it, he laughed softly.

He didn’t know how long he laid there in a daze, but eventually he became aware enough to know that he had to move. Blood from the gash on his forehead had trailed down both sides of his face, leaving itchy marks behind. His right side felt numb as long as he didn’t move, but if he did it flared up in burning agony as his body tried to move independently of the piece of iron inside it. The awkward way his armor had broken made it impossible for him to move both his body and armor as one.

Taking several slow breaths, he clenched his jaw and tried to turn onto his left side, but immediately yelled out in pain as the movement jostled the iron in a way that stretched the wound. He settled onto his back again and couldn’t slow his breathing as he tried to find some semblance of the peaceful numbness he’d just had. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just lay here for a little while longer, but even as he was thinking it he knew it was wrong. He needed help, or at the very least, he needed to not be out in the open in the Nether.

Once the pain dissipated into something manageable again, he turned instead onto his right side. It still hurt but he was able to fight his way through it. The iron was already pressed into his right side, it was more natural for it to move that way.

Now that he’d managed to get onto his side, he used his right arm to gently begin pushing himself into a sitting position. It hurt like a bitch and the feeling of something _moving_ as it was tearing into him made nausea roll through his stomach, but eventually he was sitting straight up, panting in exertion. But he’d done it.

Next, after letting the pain mellow out, he took stock of his chestplate. There were cracks spider-webbing through a vast majority of it, the front cracked in two entirely, leaving a small strip of his shirt from neck to hip exposed. He swallowed as he noticed the shadow his broken chestplate cast against his shirt was much darker on the right side. He slowly brought his left arm back to feel the extent of the damage to the back of the armor, and sure enough, there was a matching crack down the back. His chestplate was no longer one whole piece, instead only held on his body by his arms and, in the case of the right piece, the bent iron in his back. And as far as he could tell, he just needed to push the armor on his right side straight back to dislodge the iron stabbing him. Easy enough.

He moved to slip his left arm out of the chestplate entirely when a wave of dizziness rushed through him. He closed his eyes and breathed evenly through his open mouth, willing the sensation to pass. After a few moments it did, leaving him feeling off, but he pulled his left arm free, letting that piece of the chestplate fall to the ground. Then he put both hands on the front of the remaining piece of chestplate. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed it towards him as hard as he could.

The piece of iron was ripped free of him and he yelled out in pain, feeling tears spring to his eyes. The wound throbbed horribly and he could feel blood leaking from it freely. It had already been bleeding—he had felt a wetness when the armor had still been on—but the iron had prevented the wound from bleeding freely as it was now.

Hurriedly, he shoved the rest of the chestplate off and took off his shirt with some difficulty to tie it around his waist. His hands were quickly coated in blood from the amount saturated in his shirt, and it made tying the shirt into a knot that much harder. Both arms were shaking by the time he was done and he had to keep swallowing down the urge to throw up. But the worst of it was over.

He hoped.

It took him several tries to stand, and even when he managed it, he had to use the wall as a support. His legs threatened to give out after every step and his lower back sent pulses of pain through his body at every little movement. He kept having to blink heavily in an effort to clear his vision, which wavered and blurred occasionally. He didn’t know if it was the head injury or the blood loss, which was becoming substantial in his opinion. His previously blue shirt was now entirely an ugly dark brownish, darkest around his wound and heavy with blood. The shirt was so soaked that it was starting to drip down, trailing tracks of blood down his legs and staining his jeans. The ruined leggings were in just as bad a condition as his chestplate had been but he didn’t want to take the time or effort to remove them. They had become loose and disjointed from each other, the armor around his thighs having taken more of a hit and become dented, keeping them in place. The armor around his shins and calves was no longer attached to the thigh pieces and had dropped to rest on top of his shoes, jangling with each step. But nothing was stabbing him, so he endured the discomfort.

The walk back the way he’d come felt like it was taking three times as long as he needed it to. He had the wall for a vast majority of the way, however, so he was making it farther than he probably would have without it. But the longer he walked, the more wrong he felt. His back pulsed and ached constantly, his head was throbbing, his vision was only making his nausea worse, and he felt hot, hotter than the Nether usually made him.

He stopped to catch his breath, pressing his right hand tentatively against the wound, his left pressed firmly against the wall to keep him upright. Even the softest of touches made his breath hitch. His hand was shaking when he turned it over. It was covered in old and fresh blood.

His breathing quickened. He felt dizzy and closed his eyes, shifting to press his upper back to the wall. Maybe...maybe he could rest.

He slid down the wall until he was sitting with his back pressed against it. Even with his eyes closed and sitting down, vertigo washed over him. He was tired of the pain, tired of feeling dizzy and sick.

He could rest for just a moment.

He pressed the back of his head against the wall, letting out a slow breath.

Just a moment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O


	6. Waking up shirtless in a stranger’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly it’s a good thing these fools found each other because no one else would be willing to put up with them XD
> 
> Enjoy!

Awareness came to him in flashes.

There was a blur of red and white and black and purple, twisting and melding until he couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended. Up was down and sound was little more than a buzzing in his ear. He felt overheated and dizzy and exhausted, he just wanted to _sleep_ , leave him alone and let him finally _rest_.

His lower back hurt. It pulsed with pain alongside every rapid beat of his heart. The pain made him squirm to escape it, what was hurting him, why couldn’t he get away from it? He was stuck in an endless cycle as the pain made him writhe and the writhing made him hurt and the _pain_ —

It settled, eventually. It was quiet and warm, wherever he was. He was laying on something hard, though under his head was a pliable cushion. Absentmindedly he ran his hands over the thin material covering the hard surface he was laying on. It was thick and had some give, though nothing like a bed.

Curious, he blinked open his eyes. It took him a lot longer than it should have to realize that there wasn’t something wrong with his eyes, it was just really dark in the room he was in. He couldn’t see anything save for a redstone torch on the other side of the room.

He made to stretch and stopped with a dry gasp that quickly devolved into coughs. Each tremble sent pain racing across his nerves, and by the time he was done, he felt even more exhausted than ever, slumping into the makeshift bed and closing his eyes to rest for just a moment. Everything ached like he’d just run two marathons back to back. Rest was definitely an appealing idea. 

When he next opened his eyes it was much lighter in the room, though he wouldn’t have been able to miss the two faces hovering over his own and staring down at him. As he blinked the sleep and blurriness away, a pair of white and a pair of purple eyes sharpened into focus. He blinked up at them, at a loss as they—well, Herobrine—seemed surprised to see him awake.

“Wha—“ He couldn’t even finish the word before his throat rebelled. It burned fiercely and Steve had never needed to drink water more in his life than in this exact moment.

Luckily, Herobrine had anticipated his plight because he held out a bottle full of a mysterious burgundy color. Steve _would_ have been apprehensive about drinking something like that, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He accepted the bottle and downed its contents without a second thought, ignoring the lukewarm temperature and the mushroom-y taste. It was a soothing balm to his burning throat, and after the drink was gone, he felt like he could talk without his throat trying to tear itself to shreds.

“What...happened?” His voice sounded horrible, but it didn’t hurt as much to talk. It still burned, like he was sick and had a sore throat, but it was bearable.

“I think _I_ should be asking _you_ that,” Herobrine replied, taking the empty bottle and placing it to the side. The enderman made a noise that Steve interpreted as an agreement.

“I found the...the, uh...” His mind blanked. Herobrine raised a brow and the enderman tilted its head to the side, much like a curious dog. They were both staring at him and it was making it hard to think.

“You know...the place with...all the sand—um, soul sand?”

Just the look on Herobrine’s face made Steve feel foolish, but hey, head injury over here! Head injury _and_ blood loss. He could be forgiven this time around.

“A soul sand valley?” Herobrine supplied helpfully.

“Yeah...that’s the one.” He cleared his throat, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “I found that...and some ghasts.”

Herobrine made a thoughtful noise while the enderman looked between the two of them. “Ghasts _do_ love the openness the valley offers, so I’m not surprised you encountered some. But last I checked, their fireballs don’t look like stab wounds.”

At the mention of his wound, it came rushing to the center of his awareness, burning along his nerves as if angry it had been forgotten. He sucked in a breath and felt for his shirt, but he met only his own smooth skin and a tightly wrapped bandage of some kind. He lifted his head as best he could to look, even though the effort caused a headache to throb behind his eyes. The bandage wasn’t normal cloth but looked and felt a little leathery. And his skin had been cleaned of blood at some point, leaving only a phantom itch and clamminess behind.

He also realized that he was shirtless, but he had too much going on to feel more than the barest hint of embarrassment.

The rest of it could come later.

He rested a hand on his stomach over the wrapping and laid his head back down. Great, now he had a headache. “One...of the fireballs...dented my armor.”

“I see.” Herobrine said, frowning. The enderman next to him trilled something that made his frown deepen. Steve looked between them.

“What?”

Herobrine huffed. “Your friend was asking after your wellbeing.”

“Oh.” Steve looked at the enderman and reached out. His arm trembled as he held it out, and after a moment of hesitation, he patted the enderman on the arm. “I’ll be...okay buddy. Lucky you found me...when you did.” He coughed, wishing his throat wasn’t so damn scratchy. “Wait, what happened...with that anyway?” Was it getting hard to breathe or was it just him? He was having trouble catching his breath. Maybe the ghast fireball to the back had damaged his lungs somehow? Gods he hoped not. He had enough on his plate.

“ _I_ found you,” Herobrine corrected. “I watched you leave and when you weren’t back within a reasonable time, I went looking for you. I followed your new torch trail. You were sitting against a wall covered in blood and missing half your armor. Your friend here was waiting for you at your portal and followed me when it saw you passed out in my arms. It’s been nagging at me ever sense.”

There was a lot to unpack there, but it could wait for later. Herobrine glared at the tall mob, but Steve smiled tiredly at it. “Aw...you were worried...about me? That’s...” He took a stuttered breath. Was it pathetic of him to get choked up about having a mob care more about him than other humans would have? He could feel his eyes burning but he didn’t want to upset the others, or have to answer any awkward questions, so he blinked hard to hold back any tears. He probably looked pathetic enough. “Thanks buddy.”

The enderman warbled at him and attempted to comfort him with a pat of its own, though it did little more than rest its hand on his arm, lift it, and then bring it down again in a mechanical way. But Steve appreciated the sentiment.

It said something again and then disappeared suddenly with a burst of purple sparks. Steve blinked at the empty space and then shot Herobrine a confused look. Herobrine just shrugged.

“Don’t look at me, enderman are hard to understand _without_ them having some weird hyperfixation on a human.”

Steve hummed, closing his eyes. “Yeah...I wonder...what’s up...with...that.” He felt exhausted. Lifting his arm earlier had taken more out of him than he’d thought it would, and constantly trying to catch his breath had left him dizzy.

He heard footsteps walking away before Herobrine said, “I will let you rest. Yell or have your enderman fetch me if something comes up.”

Steve might have nodded or made a noise of agreement, but he wasn’t sure. Within a few seconds, he was asleep.

* * *

He woke up with more clarity than before, and a kink in his neck.

Groaning, he automatically moved to stretch but hissed as his wound protested, sending a bone deep ache through his body. Instinctively he reached down to touch the bandage over the wound, checking for blood. But all he felt was the leathery outside of a clean bandage.

Sighing, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked to clear away the last vestiges of sleep. The room was dark again, but he wasn’t alone. The enderman was standing to the side, eyes closed and still as a statue. He tried to call out but just like last time, his throat burned in protest, dryer than ever. He felt like he’d just gargled sand and then washed it away with lava.

Looking to his other side, he saw another one of those bottles filled with the mysterious burgundy liquid. He didn’t remember the taste with fondness, but it was better than nothing and was at least palatable. He reached for it, wincing as the muscles in his arm protested, but grabbed it with ease and uncapped it to down the whole thing greedily in seconds. Once finished, he felt a thousand times better.

He struggled briefly to place the bottle back on the table—the stretch of his arm, even his left one, tensed and flexed whatever muscles had been damaged in his back—but managed without too much trouble. When he turned his head to survey the rest of the room again, he was met with the steely gaze of the enderman hovering over him. He tensed as its sudden appearance startled him, wincing as his wound sent a shock of pain through his body.

“Hey there big guy,” he said, voice still rough but it didn’t hurt to talk anymore, so that was cool. He was getting real tired of hurting. “I’d ask what’s good, but you can’t talk so it’d be pointless.”

The enderman made sounds that Steve assumed were an attempt at conversation, but it just sounded like a jumbled mess to him. Though, by the slight trembling and barely open mouth, he liked to imagine the enderman was indignant at his assumptions.

He smiled and held up his hands, then with a grimace decided to rest them on his stomach instead. “Okay, maybe you _can_ talk, but it’s not like I can understand you. We’d need Herobrine to have a conversation.” He pursed his lips, humming in consideration. “I wonder how he can do that anyway,” he muttered, mostly to himself. The enderman made more warbling sounds, gesturing at itself, him, the room at large, and then the door. Steve followed its long, flailing arms until it stopped, then raised a brow at it.

“Yeah...” He said, stretching the word out and shrugging—slowly to not agitate his wound, “I didn’t get _any_ of that.”

The enderman huffed and threw up its hands, as if in defeat. Steve couldn’t suppress a smile and grinned at it. “It’s okay, we’ll figure something out. And you know what else we need to figure out?” Steve waited as the enderman perked up, giving him its full attention. “We should figure out a name for you. You probably already have a name but unless you get Herobrine to tell it to me, I’m just going to call you...hm, probably Buddy. That work for you?” It was the name of any dog that stuck around for more than a few days and though he was sure it would take offense to being compared with a dog, Steve honestly couldn’t think of a name cool enough to fit an enderman. So Buddy it was.

The enderman tilted its head, much like a dog would, and Steve nodded. “Yep, it’s perfect. I’m going to call you Buddy from now on, understand?”

The enderman pointed at him and trilled something, then pointed at itself and trilled something else. Steve didn’t know if he was just imagining things, but it kinda sounded like that second sound had a questioning inflection to it.

Buddy lowered its arms and nodded at him, then suddenly teleported away, leaving him alone in the room. He almost called out to Buddy but he choked back the words. He was fine, he didn’t need to monopolize Buddy’s time. He was probably in the safest place he could be in the Nether. Herobrine wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Herobrine had saved him. It hadn’t fully hit him until now that Herobrine had gone out of his way to track him down and make sure he was okay, or at the very least check up on him. If Herobrine hadn’t done that, he would probably be dead right now.

He’d never had someone care enough to do that for him before. His whole life, he’d had only himself to count on. Alex was a surprising turn of events but even she wouldn’t enter the Nether to come rescue him. She didn’t care enough to. Maybe she had never—

He put his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes closed. _Stop it_ , he scolded himself, _you’re lucky enough to have her as a friend. She has her own life._

It didn’t make him feel any better. He _hated_ when he got like this. After twenty years, he would have thought himself above being hurt by the Overworld’s treatment of him. He would have though himself immune to the feeling of abandonment and loneliness.

But, deep down, he knew it would always bother him, and he would hide those negative emotions with jokes and a mask of indifference. So what if the Overworld wanted nothing to do with him? He didn’t need them either.

He looked around for anything to distract him from his thoughts. The room was fairly empty, just the makeshift bed, the table next to it, and the redstone torch. And the door.

Maybe getting out of the room would do him some good. A little change of scenery never hurt anyone.

...Ignoring that a little change of scenery had _literally_ resulted in his current condition.

He placed his hands on either side of him, waist level, and pushed himself up slowly. His back gave a twinge and then flared in pain the higher up he sat, but he grit his teeth through it. He didn’t want to be in here anymore.

When he was sat up enough to dangle his legs over the edge of the cot, he had to just sit there and breath. But other than his muscles aching like he’d just had a rigorous workout and his lower back pain, he felt...okay. Okay enough to do a little exploring, at least.

Scanning the room again, something niggled in the back of his mind. After a thorough sweep, he realized that both the remainder of his armor and his bundle was missing. He reached up as if to make sure his helmet was really gone and realized that there was a thinner bandage around his head. He touched the bandage over his forehead and there was a faint ache in response, like a bruise. Then he dropped his hand to his hip. He understood why the armor was removed—it must have been in horrible condition—but where was his bundle? It wasn’t special to him, he just didn’t remember losing it. Had it happened during the ghast chase? Or when the fireball hit him? Or had Herobrine removed it along with his armor?

He supposed it didn’t matter. A couple of torches, some food, and a fire resistance potion weren’t going to do him good anyway.

He looked down and made a face. He was still wearing his blood streaked jeans and shoes, but with his shirt missing, he felt a little awkward running around someone else’s home. But it couldn’t be helped.

Okay well he could stay here and rest but like _that_ was going to happen.

Gingerly, he slid off the makeshift bed until his foot touched the ground. Then he slowly applied his weight to it. Everything was fine until he put weight on his right side, which sent a deep pulse of pain up his back. His stomach rolled and he gasped, but after a few minutes everything settled into something manageable.

“You’ve got this,” he muttered under his breath to himself. “Baby steps.” He used the cot, then the bedside table, then the wall to inch his way to the door. It was slow going but he felt alright.

He pushed the door open and peeked into the hallway. Same as before—red carpet, lanterns, and paintings lining a long hallway his door was in the middle of. The hall stretched quite a ways on either side of him and he frowned, then decided that it didn’t matter which direction he took. He didn’t know where anything was anyway.

Though...he _was_ pretty certain that he hadn’t seen any doors other than the double doors Herobrine had lead him to both times he’d been in here, so he figured he must have been in a part of the fortress he hadn’t been in before.

He took a step out into the hall and went left, as he was already leaning against that wall and it was better for his left side to do all the hard work keeping himself upright required. He could manage using his left side. His right side would tire him out much too quickly.

As he walked down the hall, he found his eyes drawn to the many paintings. Sometimes he saw paintings that depicted the same subject, and sometimes the painting looked too abstract to make sense of. But it did succeed in breaking up the monotony of the nether brick, so he supposed it served a purpose. One recurring picture seemed to be a dark creature with three wither skeleton heads. It was unsettling to look at and sent chills down his spine when he stopped to inspect one depiction of it.

The hall eventually ended, after what felt like two hours but was probably only twenty minutes. He reached the end and was met with an intersection—the hall split left or right. Again, there was nothing discernible about either direction, no special landmark or sign that indicated which direction lead where.

He took a step to his left, all too happy to continue leaning on the wall, when he heard something.

“...”

He froze, breath hitching.

The _whispers_.

Just like the ledge by his portal and the giant skeleton in the soul sand valley.

He full-body shuddered and held his breath, straining to hear it again. After a few seconds he did, to his right. He bit his lip and looked down the hall, on both sides, but nothing had changed. Both hallways were identical, with no indication of what could be making that sound.

Hesitantly, he crossed to the other side and started making his way down the right hallway. It was a bad idea, but he was curious. He knew that he would have just turned around and backtracked if he’d taken the left path, so he figured he might as well save himself the time and energy. Injured though he was, it didn’t stop him from answering the call of adventure.

“...”

It came again, no closer or farther away, so soft it was barely audible but somehow clear enough for him to hear it. He was half-hoping this was all a dream and if something _did_ attack him, he’d wake up and be back in the safety of his room, Herobrine and Buddy there for company, or maybe he’d wake up in the Overworld and this whole thing will have been one horrible nightmare. But he knew his luck wasn’t that good.

This hallway was shorter and he was coming up on what looked like a staircase leading down. The thought of stairs made him grimace, but the sound of bones rattling made him freeze, fear shooting down his spine and tingling across his nerves. His breathing picked up and his heart starting pounding, loud in his ears.

 _Fuck_ , he’d forgotten about the _wither skeletons._

He stared with wide, horrified eyes as a wither skeleton came into view, ascending the staircase not more than twenty feet ahead of him. It came to a stop at the landing and noticed him immediately, raising its sword and rushing him.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t _move_. He was too injured to take on a wither skeleton, hell he could barely fight one while in top condition.

Stumbling backwards, he cried out in fear and then in pain as he tripped over his own feet and fell. His stab wound protested his carelessness with a searing pain against his lower back.

The wither skeleton was practically on top of him and all Steve could do was hold his arms up in front of him and squeeze his eyes shut, hoping that the killing blow would be clean and fast.

But it never came.

The rattling stopped and Steve peaked open first one, then the other eye, lowering his arms when it became clear that the wither skeleton wasn’t going to attack him. It was standing a few feet from him, sword lowered to the point where the tip touched the ground, just staring at him.

Steve stared back, not daring to move in case that triggered the wither skeleton into action again. Adrenaline was still coursing through his body. His heart hurt it was pounding so hard.

Then, suddenly, the wither skeleton turned and ran away, just as Steve heard a call of his name being yelled.

“Steve!”

And then Herobrine was there, crouching in front of him and putting his hands on Steve shoulders, shaking him. He’d never seen such a clear expression of worry—or any emotion other than anger—on Herobrine’s face, but here it was, and for _him_ no less.

“What happened? Did it hurt you?”

Steve worked his throat but nothing came out. He was too shocked, staring past Herobrine’s shoulder to the staircase the wither skeleton had retreated to. Herobrine moved into his line of vision and gave him another shake. Finally, Steve found his voice.

“N-No—no, I’m not h-hurt.”

Herobrine’s worry flickered to relief for maybe one second before melting into anger. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

Steve blinked, taken aback by the swiftness and intensity of Herobrine’s anger. “W-What?”

“You’re injured and you thought wandering around a fortress filled with wither skeletons was a good idea? The fuck made you think that!”

“I—I—“ He didn’t have an answer. It seemed trivial in the face of Herobrine’s anger. He should have remembered the wither skeletons. He should have stayed in his room to rest. He—He should have—

He was shaking, and Herobrine noticed it too if the way he leaned back and took a deep breath was any indication.

“Okay.” Herobrine stood and held out his hand. Mind in a fog of confusion and lingering fear, Steve grabbed it and let Herobrine pull him to his feet. He winced as his wound stretched, but he couldn’t feel it as much. The adrenaline must have muted it. He was thankful for that, but he knew the adrenaline would fade soon and he’d crash.

Herobrine turned around and then crouched, holding his arms back. “Get on.”

“Wha—“

Herobrine cut him off with a glare over his shoulder. “Get. On. Now.”

Swallowing down a protest, Steve stepped into the loose rings Herobrine’s arms formed and let the man hoist him up into a piggyback. He didn’t know what to do with his arms and awkwardly rested his hands on Herobrine’s shoulders as he started walking back the way Steve had come.

It was quiet the walk back. Steve wondered if Herobrine could feel how hard his heart was pounding right now, his chest pressed flush to Herobrine’s back as it was. He also wondered how Herobrine had even found him, but decided to leave his questions for later. He imagined that Herobrine wouldn’t be too open to answering him right now.

They arrived back at his room and Herobrine knelt to let Steve off his back. Carefully, Steve put his weight back on his feet and instinctively grabbed onto Herobrine’s shoulder—the closest thing to him—when his back acted up. The adrenaline was fading like he knew it would, and the pain of his injuries was hitting him fully again.

Herobrine stood and grabbed onto Steve’s elbow to help him to the cot. Steve sat and let out a relieved sigh. Taking weight off his legs felt wonderful.

“Here.”

Steve opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—to see Herobrine holding out another bottle. Steve took it and drank without hesitation, completely ignoring the temperature and taste and only savoring the feeling of smooth liquid running down his throat.

Once he was done, Herobrine took the bottle and though Steve thought to finally ask what was in those drinks, as he wasn’t as hungry as he ought to be after...however long he’d been out, he yawned instead and laid down. Herobrine frowned at him.

“Don’t leave this room again until I deem you well enough, do you understand?”

Steve wanted to sass him—yes, _mom_ —but he figured that Herobrine was already cross with him. He really wouldn’t be earning any favors. Instead he nodded and said quietly, “I understand.”

“Good.”

For some reason, Steve wasn’t okay with leaving things like that. Herobrine had saved his life, _again_.

Taken by a sudden urge to show his genuine appreciation of what Herobrine had done for him and continued to do for him, he lifted his hand and reached out. It was shaky and Herobrine noticed. He reached for Steve’s hand, undoubtedly to press it down and berate him for moving, but Steve caught his hand instead and squeezed it, smiling kindly at the startled look on Herobrine’s face.

“Thank you.”

Herobrine didn’t squeeze back, but he didn’t pull his hand away either.

“You’re welcome.”

Steve counted that as a good sign.


	7. Matter of Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry this took so long! This chapter really fought me until I wrote Herobrine’s POV, then it flowed pretty easily. But I had to delete entire scenes and rewrite things and urgh, it was just an overall pain.
> 
> But I finally got it done :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Herobrine closed the door to Steve’s room and stood right outside it, staring down at his hand.

It was bizarre how easily Steve touched him. He’d gone so long isolated from humans, having one nearby was throwing him for all sorts of loops. Humans were tactile creatures, sure, but Herobrine had never been fond of strangers touching him. He found that now, with Steve, he didn’t mind it as much, but he didn’t know if that was because he just didn’t care at this point or if his and Steve’s connection with the Void helped with that. He supposed it didn’t matter.

He was still angry that Steve would be foolish enough to risk his life to wander directionless around a hostile fortress, but it was fading quickly in the wake of Steve’s actions. Because Steve...wasn’t afraid of him. Even during their first encounter, it had been more shock than anything else.

Herobrine wasn’t used to that. Humans didn’t like the Nether and the ones who saw him ran away screaming, fearing for their lives. The last time he’d been around people who _weren’t_ scared of him had been when he used to live in the Overworld and was still human himself. But that was over 200 years ago at this point.

He didn’t remember humans fondly—he’d shed his own humanity, after all—but Steve was frustratingly different. Though, thinking back on what the Wither had told him, his and Steve’s shared connection with the Void was probably why Herobrine didn’t feel the need to scare him away.

He clenched his hand into a fist, stepping away from the door and walking down the hall. He could still feel the phantom squeeze of Steve’s hand gripping his and he didn’t know if what he felt was annoyance or something else he didn’t want to put a name to.

All he did know was that he wanted to talk to the Wither, so he made his way there. It hadn’t escaped him that Steve had been in the hallway leading directly to it. Just down the steps and a little farther would have landed Steve right on the Wither’s doorstep.

He descended the stairs and was met with Steve’s enderman. Internally he groaned. It opened its mouth but Herobrine interrupted before it could get started.

“I swear, if you ask me how he’s doing, I’m going to kill you.”

The enderman slumped in place, making a pathetic whining sound that only irritated him further.

“ _I can’t help if I worry._ ”

“Why are you even worried about him in the first place?” Herobrine narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “You’re not behaving as you should.”

It shrugged. “ _My Master told me to._ ”

Herobrine blinked, taken aback. “She did?” Why would the End Dragon be interested in a human enough to send an enderman to watch over him?

It nodded. “ _I am to watch him, although I stay longer because I want to. I think he’s nice. He doesn’t treat me like a monster._ ”

Herobrine felt his heart lurch at that, but he rolled his eyes, ignoring the feeling. “Yeah, he seems to have a startling lack of self-preservation.” Secretly he thought it was refreshing, to have a human be open minded instead of fearful or even violent. Steve seemed genuine in his curiosity, but humans were fickle. There was a reason mobs were ingrained with a hostility towards them.

“ _So, he is well?_ ”

Herobrine walked past the endermen, done with the conversation. “Yes, he’s _fine_ , or he will be as long as he stays put and stops trying to get the wither skeletons to murder him.”

He stopped at the threshold to the Wither’s chamber and looked back. He could tell that the enderman wanted to say more, but again Herobrine spoke before it could. “Look, if you’re so worried just go see him for yourself.”

The enderman, for all intents and purposes, pouted. “ _We can’t communicate._ ”

“That’s not my problem.” Without waiting for the enderman’s response, Herobrine passed into into the Wither’s chamber.

As he walked up to it, only its middle head paid any attention to him. He knelt in front of it, waiting for it to speak first. It did after several moments of scrutiny.

**A visit so soon? To what do I owe the honor?**

Herobrine wanted _so badly_ to be sassy or sarcastic in his response, but the Wither did not take shit from anyone, so he swallowed down what he wanted to say and instead said, “I just have a question, if you’ll indulge me.”

**I assume this has to do with your human.**

Herobrine frowned at ‘your human.’ Yeah, his human to save every godsdammed second, it seemed. “He just had an encounter with a wither skeleton.”

**Is that so?**

The way it was said led Herobrine to believe that the Wither already knew that and was just messing with him. But he couldn’t call it out on that.

“Yes. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m more curious about where their encounter was—you know, just up the staircase to _your_ chamber?”

When the Wither spoke, its voice was curt, having lost the slight playful edge from before.

**What is your question?**

Herobrine frowned. “Are you trying to lure him here?”

They stared at each other, Herobrine defiant but still kneeling to show his submission and the Wither expressionless, floating in place gently like always. Then, its outer two heads swiveled to look at him as well, giving him its full attention.

**I’m curious about him.**

That answer was not satisfactory. “ _Why?_ ”

Again, the Wither was silent while they stared at each other. Herobrine had to ruthlessly shove down the urge to tell the ancient being to hurry the fuck up and stop being so godsdammed vague.

**It’s not for you to know.**

Herobrine took a controlled breath in and steadily let it out. He was suddenly so angry he was shaking a little. The Wither continued, either having not noticed his building rage or not caring about it.

**I will not deny that I wish to speak with him. But if it bothers you so much, I will wait a bit longer.**

Herobrine frowned, momentarily distracted out of the anger that was already trying to bubble back up to the surface. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Despite the Wither’s emotionless face, Herobrine could hear it’s smug amusement when it spoke next.

**My mistake. Regardless, I will cease my attempts for now. But I expect you to bring him to me when I so desire.**

_But why!_ He wanted to yell. Instead he bit out, “Fine.”

First the End Dragon and now the Wither. What was going on?

Before he could lose himself to his anger and provoke the Wither into disciplining him, he left the room. The enderman was gone, lucky for it, but the first wither skeleton he encountered suffered a quick death as he ignited its bones from the inside out. It didn’t make him feel any better.

He cooled off a little on his walk back to his room, and when he arrived he felt more in control of himself. There was little for him to do, so he busied himself making another set of ‘potions’ for his troublesome guest.

He started by checking his brewing stand for its blaze powder level. Finding it sufficient, he then mashed nether warts in a bowl until they were a chunky soup-like mess, then finely chopped up red and brown mushrooms, keeping those on the side. The bottles were filled with the nether wart soup and set into the appropriate slots on the brewing stand. He ignited the blaze powder underneath each bottle, heating the soup. Once it started to boil, he added the mushrooms, dividing them evenly into all three bottles. Then he slotted a ghast tear into the brewing stand. Once the tear was drained and the blaze powder extinguished itself, Herobrine had three concoctions of an elixir that was part drink, part food, and part regeneration potion. It wasn’t ideal for humans, who normally needed water just to survive, but for now it would help.

By the time he was done, his anger had dulled significantly, into something more like mild irritation. What was done, was done. There was no use dwelling on the past.

He store two of the bottles for later, keeping one potion and retrieving another roll of hoglin skin bandages to take to Steve’s room.

He knocked on the door but got no response, so he assumed Steve was sleeping. He entered the room and was right—Steve was asleep, or maybe he had passed out after his little adventure.

Herobrine walked over to Steve and watched him for a moment. With a standard bed out of the question, Herobrine had done his best to make it comfortable for Steve to recover, but though he didn’t feel like he’d succeeded too well at that, Steve seemed indifferent, if the way he was sleeping was any indication. He had turned onto his side, back to Herobrine, and was breathing evenly in and out.

Herobrine let his eyes wander, realizing that he had never taken the time to just _look_ at Steve. He frowned as his eyes traced various marks across Steve’s back. It was hard to tell in the dim light of the redstone torch, but he was pretty sure they were old scars.

Steve had mentioned that the people of the Overworld were not friendly, and Herobrine had even told him why, but he hadn’t connected the dots. He wondered how Steve could still be so...happy. Or want to return to the Overworld at all.

...Actually, his insistence on staying in and exploring the Nether made a lot more sense. Maybe he _didn’t_ want to return to the Overworld.

It was pathetic, really. Herobrine shouldn’t care about Steve or his personal experience, but the longer he stared at the old scars on Steve’s back, the more he felt responsible, in a way. Of course there was nothing he could do about it now, but Steve didn’t seem like the type of person to deserve those scars. And now he had another one, one that easily could have been avoided if Herobrine had been there with him.

He hadn’t left the fortress in a few decades at least, but already Steve had prompted him to do just that, when he had a bad feeling after Steve had been absent for longer than normal. He could make another exception.

He reached out and shook Steve’s shoulder, rousing him from sleep. “Wake up.”

Steve groaned and tried to brush his hand away, but Herobrine just shook harder until Steve turned over to glare at him. Though, once he seemed to realize who he was, his glare lessened and he sat up with a yawn, blinking blearily at him.

“What is it?”

“Here.” Herobrine handed him the bottle, which he took with a sigh. He uncapped it and drank. Herobrine was under no delusions that it was _good_ , but he was impressed by Steve’s neutral reaction.

Steve pulled the bottle away when it was empty. “What’s in this anyway? It’s...” Steve cleared his throat and then coughed. “...Interesting.”

“It’s nether wart, mushrooms, and a ghast tear.” He accepted the bottle when Steve handed it back to him. “It’s the best I could do without water, plus I didn’t know if you would be up to eating so I wanted to make it more like a soup that happened to have regenerative properties.” He shrugged. “Not sure how well it will work but I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

“That’s...pretty amazing, actually. You didn’t have to do that.”

For a moment Herobrine considered brushing off Steve’s sentiment, but the human just looked so genuine, sitting injured with a small smile—he didn’t want to be rude. He normally didn’t have a problem with that, but he could show some humility every once in a while.

“I don’t mind,” he said as he sat the bottle on the table and held up the bandages. “I want to check if your wound is healing. And then I think you’re okay to return to the Overworld, if you’d like. I’m sure you’d feel better there.”

“Well...I mean, I don’t mind it here.” Steve gave a half shrug, on his good side. “But I do kinda miss water, so I might have to do that anyway.”

Herobrine nodded, ignoring the misplaced triumph he was feeling at hearing Steve be hesitant to leave. He didn’t understand why he would feel good about Steve wanting to stay in the dangerous hell dimension that hurt him in the first place, but maybe it was just his general dislike of humans as a whole which influenced that. He was _Herobrine_ and Steve still preferred his company over other humans. How else was that supposed to make him feel?

“Lift your arms a little.” Steve obeyed and Herobrine got to work. He unwound the soiled bandage, which had a large blood stain on the inside. The skin around the wound was also covered in dried blood—he had been too busy trying to cover it to worry about wiping the blood away. It made the area look worse than it really was, because when Herobrine tentatively felt around the wound, the skin was in the beginning stages of knitting itself back together. Much slower than a traditional regeneration potion, but progress nonetheless.

Satisfied that the potions were working, Herobrine rewrapped the wound to be safe. Once done, he gestured to Steve’s head. “You can probably remove that if you’d like.”

Steve reached up to pull the head wrap off. “I’d forgotten that was even on.” His forehead was slightly bruised, a vast improvement from when there was a bleeding gash a few days ago.

“Looks like your forehead healed up nicely and your back is healing up well too.” He gathered the old bandages and the empty bottle. “Are you ready to leave now, or would you like to stay?”

Clearly indecisive, Steve bit his lip and picked at a loose thread on his jeans—which, Herobrine noticed, were also stained with dried blood. The man was a mess.

“I guess I should get back,” Steve eventually said.

“Then I will help you out.”

Steve nodded and then scooted closer to the edge of the makeshift bed before lowering himself to the ground. He slowly eased his weight onto his feet and stumbled with a hiss of discomfort when he stood upright. Herobrine reached out to grab his elbow and steady him, shuffling his burden awkwardly into his other arm. “You good?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve said, instinctively grabbing onto Herobrine’s arm in kind as he took small steps towards the door. “Just a little tender still.”

After a few more steps, Steve let go of his arm and Herobrine took that as a cue to do the same, stepping back while he was at it to give Steve space. Whatever weakness that had seized Steve was gone—he was walking confidently around the room, nary a limp to his step.

Herobrine moved over to the door and held it open, prompting Steve to walk through it and out into the hall. Herobrine followed behind and then turned right.

They walked in silence that Herobrine had no hang ups about letting continue, but he was getting the feeling that Steve wasn’t comfortable with silences like this and was about to say something.

And, sure enough—

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You have...powers, right? Like, abilities that a human doesn’t?”

Herobrine side-eyed Steve, wondering where he was going with this. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you use them that often?”

Herobrine frowned, glancing at him this time. “What makes you think that I don’t use them often?”

“Well, I mean...” Steve trailed off and then gestured at him. Herobrine looked down and realized he was still carrying the empty bottle and blood stained bandages. With a brief thought, the items disappeared as he teleported them away.

“I was just thinking, you know, if I had powers like that, I’d probably be using them nonstop.”

They were more similar than Herobrine had originally thought. “I did use them, when I first got them. But it became trivial after a while. Teleporting is something that’s second nature to me, sure, but sometimes I feel the need to just...get my hands dirty, so to speak. If that makes sense.”

Steve hummed. “Yeah, I can see your point. How long have you been here anyway?”

Herobrine hesitated, then said, “I believe it’s been a little over 200 years at this point.”

“2–200 _years?_ ” Steve breathed, stopping in his tracks. Herobrine glanced at his expression of wonder, pausing as well. Was it really so impressive? “That’s incredible.”

Herobrine shrugged. “It lost its appeal long ago.” He continued walking and after a few moments heard Steve’s footsteps start up again, but the man didn’t speak. Good, he didn’t want to be talking about this. It was inevitable that a conversation discussing how long he’d been in the Nether would lead to how he got here in the first place. He wasn’t ready to reveal to Steve that he had made a deal with the Wither and paid the price for it. It had given him some of its power. It had promised him things it didn’t have domain over. It had ultimately landed him trapped here, hated by the Overworld _and_ the Aether.

They reached the staircase leading up to the outer walkways and ascended. The enderman was waiting at the top. Herobrine was displeased to see it, but Steve seemed happy.

“Buddy! There you are! I was wondering when I’d be seeing you.”

Herobrine stopped dead in his tracks, sudden enough that Steve bumped into him with a quiet ‘oof.’

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked when he turned around to stare incredulously.

“Did you name an enderman _Buddy_?”

Steve’s face flushed as he looked away, embarrassed.

“So? What’s wrong with Buddy?”

It was so absurd that Herobrine couldn’t fully hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing if we’re talking about pets. But an enderman is not a pet.”

“I know that!”

Herobrine shook his head, but he was still smiling. Seeing that, Steve also smiled, then looked at the enderman.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“ _The concept of having a name does not mean anything to me._ ”

Steve—of course having no idea what the enderman had said—nodded sagely as if hearing exactly what he expected, looking pointedly at him. “See, it doesn’t mind.”

“Well, since _Buddy’s_ here, it can walk you back to your portal.” Steve looked back at him, his smile dimming somewhat. Herobrine ignored how much that almost made him retract his statement and even offer to let Steve stay longer. “Try not to do anything to aggravate your wound before it can heal. I know that might be hard for you, but try your best.”

Steve laughed weakly but it was nowhere near the reaction Herobrine was expecting, and he didn’t know why the mood had changed so quickly.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” he said when it became clear Steve wasn’t going to say anything. He turned to leave but stopped when he felt Steve grab his hand.

“Wait!”

Herobrine did, turning to him. Steve looked panicked, eyes wide as they stared at each other, then Herobrine pointedly looked at their hands. Steve followed his gaze and then let go as if burned, his cheeks reddening again.

“I just—thank you again. For everything.”

Herobrine didn’t know what to say. His mind was just filled with white noise as he tried to make sense of how this singular human was able to bash his way through all of Herobrine’s defenses so easily.

The enderman had said that it liked Steve because he didn’t treat it like a monster. Herobrine could relate to that. 

Not trusting himself not to say something foolish, he nodded. Then he turned and walked away.

* * *

Steve watched until Herobrine disappeared down into the halls again, and then he let out a sigh and looked at Buddy. “Well that could have gone better. Why did I do that? I couldn’t just say ‘hey thanks for saving my life’ like a normal person?” He muttered to himself as he and Buddy walked the rest of the way to his portal.

When they arrived, he stood there and stared at it, frowning. He _didn’t_ want to return to the Overworld, but the Nether just wasn’t conducive to healing stab wounds. Plus, he knew he needed water. But, despite everything, he liked being there and with how friendly Herobrine was being, he could only see himself liking it more. It was nice having someone to talk to who didn’t have a preconceived notion about him—other than what a helpless moron he was.

But, for now he had to return. With a sigh, he walked through the portal.

Having been away from the Overworld for at least two full days, it was a jarring transition from dark and hot to blindingly bright and cool.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was refreshing to breathe air not smelling of smoke, and he hadn’t realized how hot he was until the cool breeze brushed past him.

“Well this is quite the surprise.”

Steve snapped his eyes open at the unfamiliar male voice and then immediately felt tears begin to well up from the brightness. He settled on squinting as he waited for his eyes to fully adjust, looking at the figure leaning against his house. The dark cloak and crossbow on the back gave Steve the impression that this stranger was not from Alex’s village, and this wouldn’t be the first time Steve returned home from an expedition to find a wanderer squatting in his house.

“Who are you?” Steve asked, instinctively reaching down for his sword but of course it, and all his armor, were missing. He realized he was still shirtless and probably looked a lot worse for wear than he felt. Along with being shirtless, his pants were stained with blood and his skin was covered in a layer of dust, streaked through by sweat and patches of dried blood that hadn’t been fully wiped away.

“I was told you were dangerous and that I should be careful,” the stranger said, tilting his head to the side in consideration. “But looking at you now, I can’t see what they could possibly mean by that.”

“‘They?’ Did a village put you up to this? Who are you?” Steve really didn’t need this right now. He wanted to drink his weight in water, take a bath, and then sleep for a day.

The stranger pulled his hood down, revealing his face. Steve took that as a bad sign—clearly the man wasn’t afraid of Steve identifying him or about losing the element of surprise. He was a light skinned man with black hair and bright green eyes that rivaled Alex’s.

Steve was used to the looks people gave him, but this man was curiously blank. He wondered what exactly the stranger was told about him—that he didn’t already believe himself, of course.

“There’s a village not too far that way,” the stranger said, nodding his head to the side. So definitely Alex’s village. “They seem to be under the impression that you’re causing endermen to attack their village and that you’re trying to lure away one of their villagers.”

Did this man really believe that bullshit? 

“How—“

“I don’t believe that, of course,” the man said, interrupting Steve and making him glare. “But they seemed pretty adamant that you were some terrible evil I needed to get rid of.”

“‘Get rid of?’ What, did you come to kill me?”

He got a shrug in response. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Steve sighed and glanced behind him—no Buddy. Was the enderman not coming through the portal? He turned back to the stranger. He suddenly felt fatigued.

“Well, get on with it then.” He was being nonchalant but his heart was beating hard. He kept glancing around, looking for potential weapons, but there was a serious lack of anything even remotely helpful.

The man smiled. He was handsome in an effortless way, the kind of handsome that made people want to do things for you just to get acknowledgement. Steve wondered why he was, apparently, a hitman.

“Hold on now, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Then he bowed, but Steve got the impression it was meant to be mocking. “My name is Blake.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. But considering you just said you were here to kill me, I don’t really see why I should care.”

Blake laughed softly, straightening up. “That’s understandable, but I said we got off on the wrong foot, didn’t I? I—“

He took a step towards Steve and Steve took a step back, adrenaline shooting through his body in preparation for conflict, and then Buddy appeared between them, startling them both. It was looking at Steve and said something, then held out its hand. In it was a bottle of bright pink liquid.

“So this is what they meant.”

Steve grimaced, looking around Buddy at Blake. Blake seemed tenser but not overly concerned about the presence of an enderman, though his gaze _was_ cast to the ground.

Shit, he did not want Blake to be seeing this. He didn’t even know why Buddy was nice to him, he definitely didn’t ask it to _steal_ for him. How long had Buddy been doing this?

“I swear, I didn’t ask it to do this.”

“And yet it did. You’re telling me an enderman brought you something of its own volition?”

Well, when it was put that way...

“I think I’ve seen all I need to see,” Blake said, amusement coloring his tone. He risked looking up to meet Steve’s gaze. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

Steve watched him leave, a sense of dread coiling in his stomach and wrapping around his heart. Just as Blake had said, Steve was sure he was going to see him again, whether he wanted to or not.

Buddy make a soft noise for his attention and Steve rounded on it, grabbing the potion and holding it up. “What the fuck is this! Are you stealing from the village!?”

Buddy started gesturing wildly, like it was frantically trying to defend itself. Steve sighed and felt a thousand times more tired.

“Just—stop doing that,” Steve said, cutting Buddy’s rambling off. “No more stealing.” To himself he muttered, “They already hate me, no need to give them more reasons.”

When was he ever going to catch a break?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never Steve. Never.
> 
> Steve later that night: Maybe we don’t tell Herobrine about what happened earlier?
> 
> Buddy: Fine with me, fuck that guy.


	8. The Ultimate ‘Bruh’ Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, why does everyone distrust Blake?
> 
> *Looks at this chapter*
> 
> Oh

Steve allowed himself one day of rest before he got to work.

Since his last set of armor had been thoroughly destroyed and his sword was also missing in action, _and_ he had exactly zero iron ingots, he had to resort to something the thought of which he dreaded greatly.

Strip mining.

At least it was easy. He spent most of the morning down in the mine under his house, trying to keep his attention on his task instead of letting it wander like it was prone to do. Even with the healing potion Buddy had given to him two nights before, he didn’t want to take any chances.

Though, strip mining was so boring he was sure his brain was going to melt through his ears any moment.

Eventually he called it quits. He was tempted to gather more iron than he strictly needed, but not only did he want to get back to the Nether as soon as possible, he didn’t think he could handle staying in the mines for even a second longer.

He surfaced during noon, the sun high and bright in the sky. Coming from the stuffy, dank mines, the fresh air felt heavenly across his skin. He stopped to just bask in the warmth and breathe the fresh air. The one thing Steve preferred about the Overworld: quality of life.

Hiking his pack better onto his shoulder, he started the short walk back home. Although the mine was centered mostly under his house, the cave that lead down to it was a few minutes walk away, which he didn’t mind too much. He could have just dug a path down to it, but he didn’t like cutting through the land like that. He much preferred following the natural flow of things.

He approached his house from the back and rounded the corner, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of Blake leaning against the fence. Steve was immediately suspicious and unimaginably annoyed in two seconds flat. Fuck, he’d actually choose to go back down into the mines than deal with this.

“Ah, there you are,” Blake said cheerfully. He straightened up from his slouch but remained leaning against the fence. “I was starting to think I’d need to send a rescue team after you.”

Steve frowned at the absurdity of that sentence and crossed his arms, glaring as he said, “They would rather let me die.”

Blake shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

Was Steve missing something? “Why are you here?” Had he fallen in the mine and knocked himself out? This was the most insane conversation he was having and he had met _Herobrine_ for Gods’ sake.

Blake scrutinized him long enough for Steve to wonder if he had actually come here to do what he was hired for. The thought sent icy fear prickling down his spine, adrenaline shooting his heart rate through the roof. He had left his pickaxe down in the mine, so he glanced around subtly for a weapon, but he already knew there was none—though, he wasn’t above throwing dirt in someone’s eyes.

“You know, everyone seems pretty convinced that you’re dangerous,” Blake said, studying his nails like they were discussing the weather. “Just saying your name in the presence of any one of the villagers is enough to make them jumpy or jittery. I was offered emeralds, diamonds, potions, gold, even someone’s rare chain mail armor to take this job.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, because okay yeah, he found that pretty impressive, that it would be worth so much to so many people, but they were talking about _his death_ , so Blake would just have to excuse him if he wasn’t as enthused. Plus, Steve couldn’t see a better incentive that would entice Blake away from actually doing the job. Compared to the villagers, Steve had nothing of value.

“But...you had the opportunity to kill me last time and you didn’t take it. And don’t tell me it was Bu—uh, because of the enderman’s appearance. I’m sure an enderman would be no trouble for someone like you.” Shit, he really needed to get his act together. He already had a poor reputation, he didn’t need ‘on a first name basis with an enderman’ added to that list.

Blake narrowed his eyes at his slip up, but didn’t comment. “You should be grateful then, that I’ve decided not to kill you yet.”

Steve raised a brow and Blake chuckled.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I never paid much attention to stories of ghosts or evil cosmic entities or whatever, but the villagers must have some reason to believe that you’re dangerous. I mean, you do have endermen stealing potions for you.” Blake eyed him with a very ‘got you there’ look. “Not many people can claim to have an enderman at their beck and call, and the ones that can usually aren’t long for this world.”

“The villagers can go fuck themselves,” Steve said plainly. “Even if I could control an enderman, you saw me come out of a Nether portal, right? I can make my own potions if I want. And I’m not trying to steal anyone away from the village. I assume they’re talking about Alex and _she_ wanted to be my friend first.”

“Alex huh? That little spitfire? Figures, she’s leagues above the rest of them, easily the most competent.” Blake smirked. “Makes me wonder why she wants to be friends with you.”

Steve grit his teeth, then took a deep breath. Getting angry would only be a detriment. “Ha ha. You should think about becoming a comedian.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He pushed off the fence, gesturing with a jerk of his head. “Now come on, I have something I need you for.”

Steve scoffed, taking a step towards his house, only to pause when Blake _tsked_.

“Ah ah,” he admonished, lowering his hand to rest on the hilt of his sword. “I wasn’t asking. You’re coming with me.”

Steve eyed the sword and briefly considered attacking despite his abysmal chances, but ultimately he just sighed and gestured to his house. “Can I get this iron into a furnace first?”

They stared at each other in silence while Steve waited for an answer, though he could tell Blake was calculating outcomes in his head, probably expecting Steve to attack him. With what, the heavy ass bag of iron ore? Or his own fists? Against a sword? Yeah okay.

Steve waited, becoming more irritated the longer Blake remained silent, until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Dude, seriously?”

“Fine, just, hurry up,” Blake allowed, leaning casually against the fence again like nothing had happened. “And don’t think to try anything funny.”

“Gee, I’ll do my best.” He would _definitely_ try something funny if he had a damn weapon, but he didn’t so he just entered his house and started smelting the iron in the furnace. Then he emptied his pack of its unnecessary contents, keeping only some light food and torches. He felt naked without a weapon or armor as he walked back out to meet Blake.

“Walk.” Blake pointed to their left, a path which lead farther into the forest that Steve knew eventually opened up to a plains. It was the opposite direction of the village. “I’ll tell you where to go.”

Steve obeyed with an eye roll. He hoped this wasn’t going to take too long, he hadn’t packed much.

Considering he was walking to an unknown destination, unarmed, accompanied by a stranger who had _already admitted_ he’d been hired to kill him, Steve tried to make the best of the situation. He had been so caught up in the Nether, he could admit he missed just walking through what the Overworld had to offer.

He kinda wished Herobrine was here, and not just because Blake would cease to be a problem but because he just wanted to talk to the guy. Herobrine was fairly reserved and so far had not shared much of his past, but it would be interesting to hear about the Overworld when Herobrine had been here last, a mind-boggling 200 years ago. Steve still struggled to wrap his head around that.

He reached the end of the forest and paused, glancing back at Blake. “This is where you say you’ve been joking this whole time, right?”

Blake smiled. “Sorry man, but no. Keep going.”

Steve did, reluctantly. It wasn’t ideal traveling through a plains biome with so little gear, especially if they got caught out at night.

As it was, they shifted from the cooler, shadowed area of the forest to the open, empty plains. The temperature rose noticeably, but it was comfortable for now. He was pretty sure there was a desert somewhere connected to this biome. Hopefully they wouldn’t head towards or—God’s forbid— _into_ it, not during the middle of the day.

After a few minutes of walking, Steve was already over it. Hell, he’d _been_ over it the moment he saw Blake. He didn’t want to be here, threatened to walk through a damn plains with no weapon or armor or _reason_. He had better things to do, like smelt his iron and make new gear. Or sleep. A nap sounded divine right now.

“Can you at least tell me what we’re doing? I don’t make it a habit to follow strangers, you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m following you,” Blake pointed out, and Steve threw a glare over his shoulder. Blake only smirked.

They walked and walked and _walked_ , the whole time Steve debating whether he should just say ‘fuck it’ and attack. There was no way the other man would expect him to try anything after this long, and he was sure to have the element of surprise. He was sorely tempted to go through with it, but kept hesitating until it became too late when Blake suddenly told him to stop.

He did, casting a curious eye around. They were in the middle of the plains, no one and nothing around. It had been that way for some time now. The only change during the half hour or so they’d been walking was that the sun was slightly lower in the sky.

Steve swore to himself, if Blake was just messing with him...

“Dude, what—“

He never got a chance to finish, as something hard slammed into the back of his head. He fell to his hands and knees, squeezing his eyes closed and biting back a groan as his head throbbed painfully. He breathed heavily through his nose, feeling something wet tickle the back of his neck. Great, he was bleeding.

 _Again_.

He opened his eyes when he heard Blake crouch in front of him, feeling sick to his stomach as his vision wavered in and out of focus. He tried glaring, but he was sure he didn’t look anything except pathetic.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Blake said, patting his cheek lightly. Steve instinctively jerked his head away, wincing as the movement made his headache intensify.

With a sigh Blake stood, shaking his head down at him. “I wouldn’t have to do this if I thought you would just cooperate, but I get the feeling you won’t, so if you think about it, it’s really your fault that it had to resort to this.”

Steve wasn’t fully following what Blake was saying, too caught up trying to breath through the pain in his head, but knowing Blake, it was something pretentious and infuriating. Much like Blake himself.

He looked up blearily, about to tell Blake to go fuck himself, but all he saw was a boot coming right for his face, and then he knew no more.

* * *

In the first stage of consciouness, though he was mostly asleep, he was aware of how cold he was, and how cold his general surroundings were. Once that registered in his mind, he realized he was shivering badly and that a multitude of things were very wrong.

He was laying on his back and his entire torso was almost numb from the cold. His face ached with a dull throb, centering around his nose. The skin on his stomach and inside both of his forearms itched more as awareness slowly returned to him. He could feel grass under his back, and that made him realize that he was missing his shirt. His body felt drained and weak, like he’d spent way too long in the mines and his muscles had overworked themselves. And he _still_ had a headache, which came roaring back wtih a vengeance now that he was awake to feel it.

The sensations became too much, pushing him to full consciousness. He opened his eyes to darkness.

At first he thought there was something wrong with his vision, but as he laid there and blinked, he realized that it was just dark out. Like, _really_ dark.

With a groan, he tried to push himself up, only for his arms to completely fail to even begin to take his weight. He hadn’t even gotten half an inch off the ground before he was forced back down, and just that minimal effort sent racking tremors through both arms.

He laid there, panting, and watched his breath puff out into the air. His eyes slipped closed as a violent shiver ran through his body.

An enderman’s soft warble sounded suddenly, directly above him. It would have startled Steve, but given his condition, his brain was too slow to even realize what had made that sound until he called out, after a few tries, “B-Bud-d-dy?”

Another soft cry, and Steve forced his eyes open to confirm that yes, Buddy was leaning above him and staring down at him blankly, head titled. Steve felt immensely grateful that Buddy always appeared when he needed it most.

“H-Hey B-B-Bud-dy,” he stuttered, shivering so bad he could barely speak. “C-Ca-Can y-you he-help m-me u-up-p?”

Buddy looked at him for a bit longer, those glowing purple eyes the only visible thing about it in the darkness. Then the enderman moved and Steve barely felt through the numbness of his skin as Buddy slipped its arm under his shoulders and lifted him to a sitting position.

The transition made his headache pulse angrily, and he squeezed his eyes shut as nausea swept through him. He swallowed the urge to vomit, grimacing. He thought maybe he was shaking from something other than the cold, but it was impossible to tell.

Buddy made another sound and Steve hummed, opening his eyes. Buddy’s arm was still around his shoulders, keeping him upright, and now the enderman was leaning into his personal space, making small, soft noises.

“B-Bud-d-dy,” Steve managed, trying and failing to lift his arms. “I n-n-ne-eed—h-home.”

He stared at the enderman in a daze, hoping that Buddy would understand what he was saying. He just felt so cold and weak, like there was a snowstorm raging in his mind.

Buddy moved away and the instant panic Steve felt snapped him into a higher level of awareness. He reached out blindly and found Buddy’s hand, staring up at the blurry glow of Buddy’s eyes.

“W-W-Wait!”

Another soft sound and Buddy stepped closer to him, its arm winding around his shoulders again. Despite its closeness, it offered no warmth and Steve shivered again.

He tightened his grip on its hand just as they teleported. All Steve registered was the massive spike of pain in his head before he passed out again.

* * *

Sunshine beaming right into his eyes woke him this time.

Groaning, he scrunched his face up in discomfort and moved to shift out of the sun’s rays, but even that smallest movement made sharp pain spread across his stomach, like a thousand needles stabbing at his skin. Hissing, he settled back down until it dulled to something bearable.

He opened his eyes, squinting because of the sun, and as he laid there, he realized several things at once. He was in his bed. The sheets in front of his face were stained with smudges of red. He didn’t have a shirt on. And though his headache was gone and he felt better than what little he remembered of last night, he still felt weak. And that was a whole other matter—what the fuck had happened? He remembered walking out into that plains with Blake, then things got fuzzy. He mostly just remembered the invasive cold that had seemed to sink into his skin all the way to his bones.

The longer he laid there, the greater his confusion became and the harder it was to ignore. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his arms under him and pushed himself up, sucking in air through his teeth as his stomach and arms protested with that sharp pain again.

Once he was sitting up, he looked down at himself.

What the fuck?

There were...by the Gods, there were symbols etched into his stomach and the inside of his forearms. His skin was heavily smudged with dried blood, and now that he was aware of the cuts, they stung and itched.

Somewhat in shock, Steve looked around. His bed was indeed covered in dried blood, but he could see how that had come to be. What didn’t make much sense was the complete disarray of his house. The chests were all opened and what looked like half their contents laid out on the floor.

“Wha...” he mumbled, coughing at the dryness of his throat. Grimacing, he stood on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom. He paused outside the door, almost scared to see his reflection, but took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to enter.

He looked...a mess was putting it lightly. There were dark bags under his eyes and his nose was an angry red, dried blood smeared across the bottom half of his face. His skin looked waxen—at least, the parts of it visible through the dried blood did. He couldn’t make out the cuts because of all the blood, so he grabbed a towel, wet it, and gently cleaned the blood until it was mostly gone. Good enough for him to see through.

Were they...? Steve was pretty sure he’d seen symbols like them before, in enchanted books. He didn’t know the language, but the symbols carved into his skin looked to be of the same origin. As disturbing as it was, at least the cuts weren’t deep. They would fade over time.

Steve splashed some water on his face, sighing. He hung his head over the sink and let the water slowly drip off, watching the slightly red tinged droplets splash as he thought to himself.

What the fuck had Blake done last night? Dragging him out into the middle of some random plains biome, knocking him out, carving into his skin, and for what? Why do any of this and why leave him there when he was done?

There were too many inconsistencies, but there was at least one thing he knew for certain—if Blake showed his face again, Steve was going to seriously consider killing him. There would definitely at the very least be a punch involved.

He had a few glasses of water, then walked back to the main room and stared again in confusion at his poor house. He happened to glance outside and noticed that Buddy was there, standing next to the portal.

The _inactive_ portal.

Steve opened the door, more confused than ever, and called out to the enderman. “Buddy?” Immediately, Buddy whipped around, its eyes wide. It teleported directly in front of him and was making a lot of quick, distressed noises as it gesticulated wildly, pointing at the portal, at him, at his house, and in the direction Steve knew the plains biome was.

“Relax, everything’s okay,” Steve said, trying to soothe the enderman into some semblance of calm. It worked a little, as Buddy stopped gesturing and instead really looked at him. Then it pointed at his stomach. Steve looked down, then offered Buddy a tired smile. “Yeah, just my luck, huh?” He forced himself to chuckle, feeling that if he really stopped to think about it he was going to freak out. Better to just focus on what to do next.

Buddy shook its head and pointed at his stomach again, then pointed at the inactive portal. Steve furrowed his brows and looked at the portal. Nothing about it seemed abnormal.

Buddy made a sound that Steve took as frustrated, the way the enderman huffed, and Steve smiled again, a little more genuinely. He patted the enderman’s arm. “It’s okay, you don’t have to try to explain. Thank you for helping me last night.” Buddy perked up and nodded, saying something that Steve just continued smiling at. Gods he really wished they could communicate better.

“Do you happen to know what happened last night? You can just nod or shake your head.”

Buddy stared at him, then tilted its head like it always did when staring at him. Then it shook its head. Steve sighed.

“Well it was worth a shot.”

After showering and dressing in clean clothes, he felt a million times better. He had lunch, and then got to work cleaning up his house. And by that, he really just shoved items into random chests until the floor was cleared. He noticed that, for some of the items, he didn’t remember getting them, like the fishing rod or the fermented spider eye(which he nearly gagged at and promptly tossed in the trash). After that, he took his bedsheets and decided they were a lost cause, so he threw them out and replaced them.

Everything was back to a semblance of normal but the events of the last twenty four hours haunted the back of his mind. Every so often he would periodically catch himself staring at the etchings on the insides of his arms, their purpose—and the reason behind Blake’s actions—continuing to evade him.

But dwelling on it made anxiety sit heavy in the pit of his stomach. He would force his eyes away from the marks and find something to do.

After the house was back to normal, he started making a sword. It wasn’t difficult or time consuming normally, but he made sure to really take his time and pay attention to his work, if only to avoid thinking about anything else. It took three times as long, but it helped relax him in a way, so he didn’t mind.

He treated the armor pieces the same way, and was done with the helmet and halfway through the chestplate when there was a knock on his door. He glanced over and perked up when he saw Alex waving at him through the window.

“Hey!” He greeted when he opened the door. “It’s been a while.” He stepped aside and allowed her in.

“I know, sorry about that,” she said as she walked past him, shrugging her pack off and swinging it onto the table. It made a decent _thud_. “I haven’t been able to get away from the village with everything that’s been going on.”

Steve thought back to what Blake had said a couple days ago, about endermen apparently stealing from them. “What’s happened?”

Alex sighed heavily, offering him a tired smile. “We’ve been having enderman appear in the village, even during the day, and steal random items that appear worthless. I know that endermen have a habit of doing just that, but to purposefully come to a village during daylight hours?” She shook her head. “It’s unheard of. I mean, it’s hard enough finding an enderman during the day, and you wouldn’t believe how many we’ve seen during the last week alone.” She frowned down at her pack, her tone becoming serious. “It’s getting the villagers a little worked up.”

Steve was starting to think that those random items he didn’t remember acquiring might be gifts from Buddy, and made a mental note to talk to Buddy and make _absolutely sure_ that the tall bastard understood when he said _no more stealing._

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said carefully. He didn’t want her to know he was friends with the enderman ‘tormenting’ her village. As much as he disliked them, he didn’t want Alex to have to work more because of him—even if it wasn’t technically his fault. He still felt bad.

He tried to lighten the mood. “You can just blame me like everyone else does, I won’t mind.”

But she looked up sharply at him. “How do you know they blame you?”

Oh shit. Steve winced, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “I-I mean, who else would they blame?”

Alex crossed her arms and raised a brow, unimpressed, but then her eyes flicked to his arm and she gasped.

“What happened?” She asked urgently, reaching for him. He flinched and stepped back, and she stopped, eyes wide.

“S—Sorry,” he said shakily. His heart was pounding and that anxiety from before was trying to crawl up his throat. “It—It’s nothing.” He forced himself to hold out his arm so she could see.

“Steve, this is not _nothing_ ,” she said softly, gently taking his arm into her hands and turning it this way and that to inspect the carving. “Do you know what this is?”

Steve shrugged, looking away and trying not to think too hard on it. “It looks like the enchanting language.”

“How did it happen?”

He hesitated, long enough for her to drop his arm and try to catch his eye. “Steve?”

He swallowed heavily, forcing the hysteria back down. Why did he feel like something terrible was about to happen? He felt like when he had begun mining for the first real times alone and the threat of an early death via creeper was very real.

Finally he forced the words out. “There’s...this guy, that the village apparently hired to—to kill me. His name’s—“

“Blake,” Alex finished, practically snarling the name. The intensity of her anger startled him and he managed to look at her. She looked pissed. “I know who that son of a bitch is.”

“R-Right. He came here a few days ago and told me what he had been hired to do, but that he wasn’t going to do it. Then yesterday he came by again and dragged me out to the plains, the one behind my house. He knocked me out and when I woke up, I had these.” He held out both arms. He knew he was downplaying what happened a bit, but he didn’t want her to know the extent of what happened if she didn’t ask.

Her anger melted away as she gazed at the lines on his skin, but as she looked between the two carvings, her brows furrowed. “Did—Are there more?”

He winced. Well shit, that was fast. He lifted his shirt enough to reveal the mark on his stomach. She stared at it, anger slowly bleeding back into her expression.

“That bastard,” she eventually said, turning to her pack. She dug through it aggressively and pulled out a book and a pencil, sketching something quickly into a page. “I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing, but he better wish he doesn’t cross paths with me.”

Steve let his shirt drop back down. “What?”

She glanced at him. “The markings are strange. It’s definitely the enchanting language, but not as it’s suppose to be. The symbols have been modified and combined in ways that make it impossible to decipher unless you speak the language fluently. I only know a little of it, but I recognize the symbols for ‘power’ and ‘binding,’ and I think ‘loyalty,’ but like I said, the symbols are all twisted up in ways they shouldn’t be.” She snapped the book shut and turned back to him, her expression softening.

“I’m sorry he did that. When I found what they had hired him for, I tried to talk them out of it but—“

“You don’t have to apologize,” Steve interrupted. He almost wanted to admit that, while it wasn’t _technically_ his fault because he never asked Buddy to steal for him, the enderman was still doing it because of him. “Besides, he already said he wasn’t going to kill me.” He left out the ‘yet.’ Alex seemed mad enough as is.

“We’ll see. I already didn’t like him but after this...” She shook her head, scoffing to herself as she turned back to her pack. “Anyway, the reason for my visit is to give you these.” She lifted a stack of small books out of her pack and held them out. He took them and inspected the one on top, however there was no title or identifier of any kind.

“I found these at the next village over,” she explained. “I figured you would be interested in them.”

Considering he didn’t know the contents, he smiled anyway. Whatever the books were about, he was sure he would enjoy them. He liked reading and learning about history in particular, and he and Alex had similar tastes in that regard, so he was confident that the books would be well worth the read.

“Thanks. What are they?”

She flipped her pack shut and hefted it onto her shoulder. “One of them has a small excerpt about those pig-men you mentioned. The others all mention or feature Herobrine, like you asked about. Sorry it took so long to get back to you.”

Steve was suddenly a lot more interested in the books now. “It’s okay. It sounds like you have your hands full.”

“No kidding. Hey.” She stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. “Look after yourself, okay? I’ll try to help as much as I can.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he practically choked out, heart in his throat. Maybe he was wrong about how genuine Alex’s friendship was.

“But I’m going to anyway.” She shot him a winning smile and headed for the door. “Enjoy the books!”

He looked down at them, dumb smile plastered to his face. His day had just gotten a whole lot better. He’d have to try to think of some way to thank Alex.

He set the books aside for later. He was curious about them, but he wanted to get his armor done with. No matter what those books contained, it wouldn’t be the real thing.

The quicker he finished, the quicker he could get back to the Nether.

He glanced at the portal and then groaned when he remembered that it was deactivated. And he hadn’t gathered any extra iron, only the exact amount he’d needed for his sword and armor.

He sighed. The universe was laughing at him.

Back to the mine it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, what kinda crazy fuckery is Blake into?


	9. Guys, it’s totally not a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning here has some body horror? I think? Or at least descriptions of gross anatomy. Not sure if ‘body horror’ is the correct tag but just in case ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Enjoy! ^q^

Herobrine had not been having a good time these last few days.

For how long had he been accepting of his fate, content to stay alone forever in this fortress? And now, after a few—frankly unremarkable—meetings, he couldn’t stop thinking about a _human_.

It was infuriating.

He was more a ghost now than ever, wandering the halls and upper walkways of his fortress in a daze, usually finding himself staring at Steve’s portal, hoping the human would come through. Hadn’t it been long enough for Steve to recover and return? He’d said he would.

Then he would become angered at himself, at this weakness, and storm off to wander other parts of the fortress, only to eventually find himself back up top, staring at the portal again.

He thought often of how Steve had grabbed his hand in a panic to stop him from leaving. The way his face had flushed red in embarrassment when he realized what he’d done. It was a novel idea, that someone would _want_ him around. He tried to convince himself that Steve must have been delirious from his injury and hadn’t known what he was doing, but it was a weak excuse that Herobrine knew was completely off the mark. Steve just didn’t care about who he was, only that he had saved his life.

These thoughts troubled him, and when he found himself indecisive or anxious, his wandering would inadvertently lead him to the Wither.

Most times it never spoke to him, when he got like this. He would sit or lay in the room, staring at the wall for hours, maybe days, and just bask in its presence. The power that the Wither granted him all those years ago constantly pulled him towards it, like it wanted to escape him and return to its original master. It was that part of him that felt loyalty and submission to the Wither, though over time he had learned to overcome those feelings. The Wither had given its power to him of its own free will—it was _his_ now. But he still recognized his superior, no matter how much it pissed him off.

He couldn’t argue that he felt the most at peace when the Wither was near. That’s why he was glad it rarely spoke to him.

After some amount of time passed, he started feeling a tickle at the edge of his awareness. There was something happening, a power building nearby that felt like when a haunting of endermen passed near. But it didn’t quite feel like endermen.

All at once, the power built to an intensity strong enough that he sat up, frowning at the wall in the direction of the anomaly. In his peripheral, he saw the Wither do the same.

It peaked. It was a darkness he recognized—he felt it within himself and in the creature floating next to him.

Void.

Frowning, he spared a glance at the Wither. One of its heads was looking at him, and nodded when their eyes met.

He teleported to the top, scanning the surrounding area for signs of trouble. Like he initially thought, there were no endermen around. His eyes trailed across the netherrack terrain until he caught sight of Steve’s portal.

Steve’s _smoking_ portal.

His heart leapt to his throat. Had Steve come through? Had a ghast been nearby and shot at him? Was Steve okay?

He ran toward the destruction, searching for any sign of Steve. The smoke was clearing as he approached, revealing a curious scene.

The ground around the portal frame was slightly cratered, and there was some kind of mob sprawled in the middle of the destruction, wisps of smoke trailing off its mutilated form. Herobrine didn’t quite know what he was looking at—the creature was such a mess as to make identifying it impossible.

It was making strained, stuttering wheezes as it shifted. Once or twice it tried lifting itself up, only for its arms to give out.

Herobrine walked up to it and frowned. He crouched and poked at its head, surprised to notice it had short black hair. He hadn’t realized before because most of the creature was black like an enderman, just with all the wrong proportions.

Its breathing was labored. The longer Herobrine looked at it, the more horrible it became. From what he could see of it—it was laying face down—the only thing he could even think to compare it to was an ender-fied zombie, but he didn’t know how such an abominable creature could come to be.

Not willingly, surely. It was a pitiful sight.

It was shirtless, the skin of its back shredded and ragged, revealing pure black muscle and glimpses of black bone underneath, much like a zombie. Instead of blood it appeared to ooze a thick black goo, which felt—when Herobrine touched it out of morbid curiosity—sticking like tar.

He touched its shoulder and when it didn’t move, pushed it onto its back to get a better look at its front. The chest and stomach were in just as bad a shape, damaged skin revealing the quivering muscle below. He could see its lungs working overtime as it continued to take wheezing breaths. His eyes trailed up to its face, which was surprisingly well intact, only a single gash along one cheek that revealed part of its cheekbone and jaw. Its eyes were closed so Herobrine lifted the left eyelid, surprised to find it looked unlike a zombie or an enderman—it was a normal, green human eye. Curious, he lifted the right eyelid—purple on purple, just like an enderman.

He sat back on his haunches, stumped. Just what the hell was this creature? As insane as it sounded, it appeared to be an enderman/zombie hybrid. Though, now that he was looking at its front, something didn’t add up. If it was a zombie, it must be a new one. The skin was ragged and torn, but the parts that were intact appeared strong and young, and its body was fit, not sagging like a zombie’s usually became. 

He looked over at the portal, which was now inactive. The earlier panic was settling into dread. This mob had come from Steve’s portal.

The cold thought that Steve might actually have gotten himself into trouble while recuperating in the Overworld warred with the red-hot anger that threatened to choke him if _this_ mob was the cause of it. As it was, Herobrine had no clue which was the case—if Steve was hurt or not—but he did have this weird new mob to question. If it could even talk.

“Hey,” he said, slapping the mob’s cheek lightly. “Can you speak? Or understand me?”

The mob did not react. Its eyes remained shut and its body non-responsive. Herorbine huffed.

He tried slapping it harder, but its head just lulled to the side. More black goo leaked from its mouth.

Having failed communication, he grabbed the mob’s arm and teleported them directly into the fortress dungeons. They were dusty with disuse, as he hadn’t had need of or even visited them in several decades. Tormenting and torturing humans and mobs alike had lost its appeal after a century.

He dragged the mob over to a wall and secured a chain around its ankle. When it was more aware, he would return to question it. For now he was content knowing it was secure.

He teleported into the fortress proper and made his way to the Wither’s chamber. He was anxious—he wanted to _do_ something—but even if the portal had stayed active, he couldn’t have gone through. Entering the Overworld would be a death sentence. The Wither had reminded him time and time again that the Aether had eyes everywhere in the Overworld. If he were to be seen, they would hunt him down and kill him, no questions asked. It was so ingrained in his mind that sometimes just the sight of a portal unnerved him.

Once he entered the chamber, he knelt. All three heads were watching him.

**What did you discover?**

“I’m not sure. My best guess would be an enderman-zombie hybrid, but there are some anomalies about it that make me question that.”

The Wither hummed.

**Its origin?**

Herobrine hesitated. “It...I found it laying in front of the nearby portal. There appeared to have been an explosion.”

Not for the first time, Herobrine wished the Wither had any capability of facial motion to give away its thoughts or feelings. Instead, he had to remain kneeling while it thought to itself in silence.

**Where is it now?**

“The dungeon. I was going to try questioning it later, if it can even speak.”

The middle head nodded.

**Keep me informed of anything you learn.**

“Of course.”

He left the chambers and returned to the dungeon to check up on his new guest, but the mob was just as out of it as before, leaving Herobrine, once again, with nothing to do.

He walked without direction and quickly found himself back up top, staring at Steve’s now deactivated portal.

He sighed.

* * *

After Alex had left and Steve had returned from the mines with another iron in hand, he’d completed the rest of the armor and made the flint and steel. He was ready to return to the Nether, but decided to get a good night’s sleep first. His stomach and arms no longer hurt, though his shirt irritated the marks on his stomach as it rubbed against them occasionally. Not enough for him to do anything about it, but still.

Once the sun had set, Steve settled into bed with only slight trepidation. Despite the relatively calm day, he had just been attacked and left for dead a little over a day ago. Excuse him if he was a little on edge.

He closed his eyes and got comfortable, listening to the natural sounds of nightime. It usually instilled a sense of peace and familiarity in him, but he found that, though he continued to lay there, sleep would not come. He tossed and turned and stubbornly kept his eyes shut, but nothing happened. He remained frustratingly awake, even though, when he looked at the clock nailed to the wall across from the bed, it showed that a little over an hour had passed. It was past midnight at this point, he should definitely have fallen asleep by now.

After another hour of laying there awake, he finally accepted that sleep wasn’t going to take him, and he might as well do something in the meantime. He sat up and his eyes landed on the stack of books he’d left on the table. Maybe now would be a great time to read them—not only did he _want_ to actually read them, but reading might make him tired enough to fall asleep. A win-win.

He got up and lit a torch on the wall next to his bed, then went to the table. He hadn’t gone through the books to see which one was about what, so he grabbed the one on top and padded back over to his bed. He got comfortable in a sitting position this time and inspected the book’s face. No title, and when he opened it, no inscription, but there was a short foreword that read:

_This collection of journal entries has been carefully recovered and restored to provide history about the Nether and all who are brave enough to travel there. These entries have been rewritten or translated as well as possible to make them legible for a wider audience._

_Everything you are about to read is written truth from the perspective of an actual person._

Intrigued, Steve turned the page to the first entry, which was not labeled in any way. He found that odd, but started reading.

Unfortunately for him, the book was captivating enough that he only started feeling tired a couple of hours before sunrise. By that time, he had finished the first book and contemplated starting the second, but his eyes were burning and he _was_ tired.

He decided that _some_ sleep would be better than _no_ sleep, so he put out the torch and laid down, asleep within minutes.

Not for long, however, as the sun streaking through his window and into his face—as good as it felt—was too annoying to sleep through and woke him up. He was groggy and sat up with a wince, checking the time with dismay. Only two and a half hours had passed. With a sigh, he gazed longingly at his bed but got up anyway. He had already put off returning to the Nether, and he didn’t want to stay too long in the Overworld in case Blake came back, or something equally batshit crazy happened. He shivered just thinking about that day. It haunted him that he didn’t know what happened.

A quick shower woke him up a little, and he ate a breakfast of eggs and toast in between packing a new bundle. This time, he added some bottles of water. Just in case.

After breakfast he donned his arm and strapped the sword and bundle to his hip. As he was opening the door, his eyes caught on the mark marring the inside of his arm. The armor didn’t cover there and left it exposed. Anxiety curled heavily around his stomach as he looked at it. The thin lines were scabbed over, not necessarily noticeable but with his luck, Herobrine would notice them right away. He paused and briefly debated whether or not he should cover his arms, but the thought of wearing extra clothing in the Nether was disgusting. Instead, because it was practical, he just covered the marks in a single layer of bandage. Easy enough to explain, he wouldn’t have to look at them, and the cuts weren’t exposed to the elements.

With that settled, he made his way to the portal. With the new flint and steel he’d made yesterday in hand, he sparked the portal back to life, stowed the flint and steel in his bundle, took a deep breath, and jumped through.

...And immediately stopped at the sight of Herobrine standing only a few feet in front of him.

The two stared at each other, one in shock at being caught and one in surprise.

“You’re...back,” Herobrine said lamely. He cleared his throat. “It’s about time.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth quirked up but he remained otherwise still, mere inches from the portal. “And you’re here,” Steve said, casting a weary eye around, but there was nothing of interest in their immediate surroundings, and he didn’t remember anything happening to the portal before he left last time. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” Herobrine replied quickly. A little too quickly, Steve thought, and Herobrine must have realized it too by the way his face reddened a bit.

“Right,” Steve said, drawing the word out and finally stepping away from the portal, giving Herobrine an odd look. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing?”

“There was an explosion. Here.” He gestured to the ground, and Steve realized that there was soul soil under his feet instead of netherrack. “I was fixing it.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “An explosion? What happened?”

Herobrine shrugged. “When I came to check it out, there was...” Herobrine paused and appeared to be deliberating his next words. “It was like nothing I’ve seen before,” he finally said. “A hybrid between a zombie and an enderman is my best guess.”

That...sounded horrible. Steve shivered just thinking about such a creature. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday for you, I think. Maybe a day and a half ago.”

A wave of dread crashed over him, sitting sour in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed heavily and glanced at the portal behind him. Could that have anything to do with why the portal had been deactivated in the Overworld? Steve was still unsure what had happened that night with Blake and there were a bunch of questions he had that would probably remain answerless unless Blake showed his face again. But the thought of seeing Blake caused anxiety to grip his heart tight.

A touch on his shoulder made him jump and whip around. Whatever Herobrine saw in his expression, it made him back up, hands raised to show he didn’t mean to be threatening.

Steve realized he was breathing fast and shaking. He brought a hand up and scrubbed at his face, sucking in air and exhaling shakily.

“Sorry. I’m just...a little on edge.” He tried to smile but he was sure it came out more pained than anything. “Anyway, how have you been? Anything else exciting happen while I’ve been gone?”

Herobrine stared at him for a bit before lowering his hands and shaking his head. “Nope. Just as monotonous as ever. I’m actually glad to see you, at least you’re entertaining.”

“What, with my near death experiences?”

“Well, I do get to play the hero,” Herobrine said with absolute seriousness and Steve smiled more genuinely, rolling his eyes.

“Lucky me.”

“I’m actually glad you brought that up,” Herobrine said. He crossed his arms but instead of looking angry or irritated, he hunched into himself a little. “I’ve been thinking, you know, it might not be such a bad idea to accompany you. You seem ill prepared for most of the Nether and I’m just here not doing anything so...” Steve was surprised that Herobrine would bring this up—would even want to join him—but he was delighted all the same. However Herobrine must have misread his surprise and silence when he quickly backtracked.

“Only if you want, of course. I don’t want to imply that you can’t handle yourself, you’ve only been here for a little bit now and I’ve been here for much longer so, of course this would be trivial for me—“

“Herobrine—“

“—and every time you’re here you’ve gotten injured in some way so I’ve been thinking, you know, I wouldn’t mind helping you if you needed it but then again, I didn’t know if you would want to, so I thought—“

“Herobrine,” Steve said a little louder and firmer. Herobrine’s mouth snapped shut with an audible _clack_ and Steve did his best to hide his smile, amused at Herobrine’s sudden nervousness. It was nice seeing a normal side to him. “I was going to ask the same thing. I think it’s a great idea. Honestly I thought you wouldn’t want to because you’ve probably already seen everything around here, huh?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, but that’s okay. Seeing your reactions will be worth it. Have you been to the warped forest yet?”

Steve shook his head.

“You’ll love it. It’s my favorite biome in the Nether.”

“I can’t wait to,” he said honestly. The thought of exploring a new biome was just what he needed right now—something to distract him from his Overworld problems.

“Cool cool,” Herobrine said, nodding, and Steve was hit by a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with his surroundings. That he was able to have this opportunity at all made him feel special in a way that wasn’t _bad_. Because all his life he’d been ‘special’—a freak, a monster, a curse. But with Herobrine, he felt welcomed, even cared for in a way. Herobrine had saved his life multiple times, and just now had claimed to want to accompany Steve to continue to keep him safe. He couldn’t help but be grateful. This was exactly what he needed after the last couple of rough days he’d had. 

“Are you ready to go now?” Steve asked. “I can wait if you need to grab anything.”

Herobrine shook his head. “No I’m good. Where do you want to go first?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? With Herobrine as his company, he could go anywhere he wanted. Herobrine had been here long enough, he had to know where all the nearest biomes were. But Steve didn’t want to lose out on the journey there. And he didn’t have to worry so much anymore, if Herobrine was with him.

“I guess we can head to that warped forest first. You’ve gotten me interested in seeing it.”

“Good choice, I need something from there anyway. Do you want to walk there?”

Steve smiled. He secretly wondered if Herobrine could read his mind. “I was just thinking that. Yeah, if you don’t mind? Unless it’s really far...”

“Nah, it’s not too far. Maybe an hour and a half? I think?” Herobrine looked around, scratching at his head. “Actually, I’m not sure how long it will take. I usually just teleport around until I’m there, but I haven’t gone in a long time.”

“Well, we can see. Maybe we can skip through any nether wastes we come across. Those all seem pretty much the same.”

“That sounds fine. In that case, it’s this way,” Herobrine said, starting to walk towards the fortress. Steve started following behind, but then increased his pace a bit to be side-by-side with Herobrine.

“Why haven’t you been there recently?” He asked, and Herobrine frowned, then his expression lightened and he shrugged.

“Laziness I guess. I haven’t felt the need or desire to leave the fortress for several decades until you came around. But I used to go there all the time. Not sure why, but I feel...It’s hard to explain, but I feel the most comfortable there, outside of the fortress. You probably won’t understand why once you see it, but there’s just something about a warped forest that’s peaceful.”

Steve raised a brow, though inwardly he was thrilled to hear about such a strange biome in the Nether. “‘Peaceful?’ In the Nether?”

Herobrine shot him a smile. “I know, but you’ll see.” And then he winked and Steve’s heart did a flip. He looked away, face hot, letting a comfortable silence settle around them.

He was just...unused to company, that was all. He didn’t think he could ever say he had a ‘friend’ before Alex and Herobrine. Having positive interactions with another being was just having an unusual reaction in him because he wasn’t used to it. Yeah, that was totally it. It had nothing to do with how Herobrine had saved his life and wanted to protect him from further harm. How Herobrine could look at him and smile. Herobrine was just being nice.

As they walked, Steve suddenly tensed. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. He felt like someone was watching him. They were walking away from the main fortress now, and when Steve looked over the edge of the railing, his eyes happened to land on a small window down by the lava. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a pair of eyes watching him.

“We just need to get to the other side, then it’s a pretty straight shot,” Herobrine said suddenly. Steve jumped slightly and blinked, checking back into himself. They were standing on the other side of the fortress's upper walkways, at a dead end. The path crumbled into nothing before them—the next step would be to a fiery demise below. Across the lava lake was a sizable outcrop of netherrack, a wide path leading into the distance. He looked over, still feeling dread crawl over his skin, but that vanished when Herobrine held out his hand.

Steve stubbornly ignored the way his heart rate increased, blaming the prospect of an impending teleport as the culprit. Nevermind that Herobrine could have just grabbed his arm and teleported them, no, he had to hold out his hand, making Steve close the distance.

He did so with only slight hesitation, tensing in anticipation of what was going to happen next. He'd only teleported twice but he didn't remember it fondly.

Between moments, they were suddenly on the other side of the lava. Steve blinked the vertigo away and swallowed down the nausea, recovering quicker than he expected. It hadn't been that bad.

"You good?" Herobrine asked, eyeing him, and Steve gave a thumbs up.

They continued walking, Herobrine slightly in the lead because one, he knew where they were going, and two, Steve slowed his steps a bit to take in the sight. As normal as the Nether was starting to become for him, it's impossible geometry would probably never cease to amaze him.

“...”

He turned around quickly, blood like ice in his veins as his heart beat loud in his ears. That had definitely been a whisper of _something_ , just like the other times, coming from behind them. Whatever it was, it came from the fortress.

“Steve?”

He looked at Herobrine, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he said automatically, forcing himself to turn his back on the fortress and catch up to Herobrine. “Just...thought I heard something.”

They continued walking but Steve could tell that Herobrine wanted to say something; he was probably thinking of a way to do it.

“What did you hear?” Herobrine finally asked.

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Steve deflected. “Just my mind playing tricks on me.”

“But what do you _think_ you heard?”

Steve swallowed down the fear, pointedly not looking at his companion. “I don’t know. It’s indistinguishable. Like a far away voice. But it never fails to get my attention.”

Though Steve wasn’t looking at him, he could tell that Herobrine was burning a hole in his head with his gaze. Steve continued to ignore it, keeping his eyes to the side.

“Did you hear it when you left your room and encountered that wither skeleton in the hallway?”

That was oddly specific and right on the money. Steve finally looked over, surprised, at Herobrine’s calculating expression.

“Not...initially,” Steve admitted, still feeling a little embarrassed about that. “I only heard the whispers after a bit of walking but they weren’t why I left the room.”

Herobrine made a thoughtful sound.

“Do you...know what it is?” Steve asked.

“It’s the Wither,” Herobrine said immediately, but that didn’t make sense to Steve.

“How could that be? Isn’t wither a weakening effect?”

“No, not wither, _the_ Wither. The ultimate force of death and destruction. It’s an ancient being of unimaginable power that can be summoned from the Void.”

“Why...” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He was just lamenting about being ‘special’ and how he didn’t need to worry about that in the Nether, and now Herobrine was telling him that some unholy entity from the Void wanted, what, a meet and greet?

“Why is it whispering to you?” Herobrine answered, and Steve nodded, vaguely sick. Strangely enough, Herobrine looked unhappy as he answered, “Because it wants to meet you.”

Exactly what he didn’t want to hear. 

“Is that...” It sounded bad. The whispers so far had done nothing but unsettle him. Surely, if this Wither wanted to meet him, and if it was so powerful, it could think of a better way to get his attention. “Is that bad?”

Herobrine frowned. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He stopped walking to turn to Steve. “When I found you in the hallway, you were very close to its chamber. When I questioned it, it just said it was curious about you. But it had agreed to stop for now.”

“So that was...?” Steve glanced over his shoulder, still feeling tense like something was going to jump out at him any moment.

“Probably it just amusing itself at our expense.”

Steve shuddered. He didn’t think he wanted to meet this Wither.

Silence settled between them again. They walked for a while, teleporting over long stretches or gaps in the path. With each small teleport, Steve was getting more and more used to the feeling and what to expect. It really wasn’t that bad after a few times.

Another thing he noticed was that all mobs kept their distance. Even ghasts turned around and practically fled from their general direction. He wondered if that was just Herobrine’s presence or if he was actively broadcasting, so to speak, a ‘don’t come near’ signal. Either way, it was incredibly handy. Steve got the most enjoyment watching the ghasts flee, their cries fading into the distance.

They had just exited a soul sand valley when Herobrine spoke up again.

“What happened to your arms?”

Steve, who had been looking at a giant skeleton half buried in the sand, gave a noncommittal hum. “Hm?”

“Your arms?” Herobrine repeated, and even pointed when Steve looked over at him.

“Huh—oh. That. Um.” Steve, for some reason, was hesitant to reveal what happened. He hadn’t been planning on telling Alex, but he also hadn’t hidden the marks from her. Truthfully, he hadn’t even thought about them until she’d pointed them out. But he _had_ decided to hide them before coming here. Preventing Herobrine from seeing them hadn’t been his _main_ reason for doing it, but he had thought about it, in the back of his mind. He didn’t know why, though. There was no reason Herobrine shouldn’t know about it, hell, he might even know what they meant.

“I was...Well, when I...er...” He trailed off and then sighed, grimacing. There really was no easy way to say it. “I’ll just show you.”

He unwrapped his left arm and, hesitant without knowing why, lowered it for Herobrine to see.

At first, Herobrine didn’t say anything or even move, just stared down at the strange collection of symbols carved into the inside of Steve’s arm. Then he took a deep, controlled breath.

“Tell me what happened,” he said firmly, leaving no room for objection. Steve didn’t know what he expected, but this wasn’t it. He realized that, now that he’d shown Herobrine, his decision to cover the wounds in the first place stemmed from an unconscious fear that Herobrine would see them and not care. That clearly wasn’t the case if the way Herobrine’s face was starting to look was any indication, his hands balled into tight fists at his side.

“When I got back to the Overworld a few days ago, there was a man waiting at my house.” Steve still had his arm out and Herobrine was still looking down at it. “He had been hired by a village to kill me. He didn’t go through with it, but a couple days later he showed up again and forced me to walk to a plains. He knocked me out and left me there. When I woke up, I had these on my arms and...one on my stomach as well.” He almost hadn’t admitted that, as Herobrine was already struggling with the reveal of just his arm being injured, but he thought it would be better not to hide anything.

Steve’s heart was beating loud in his ears as he waited for Herobrine to do something. He was starting to get nervous as they stood there in silence.

“It’s...It’s really nothing,” Steve said, finally moving his arm. He rewrapped it and let it hang loosely at his side. “It doesn’t hurt or anything, and nothing else has happened, so I just try to ignore it and move on, you know?” Steve laughed weakly but there was no mirth behind it. Herobrine was staring at him now and the intensity of his gaze was too much. Steve looked down at their feet, feeling awkwardly like a scolded child trying to explain themself to a disappointed parent. “I’m sure when Blake comes back he’ll rub it in my face and tell me what exactly it was for—“

“Is that his name?” Herobrine interrupted, and Steve looked up.

“What?”

“Blake. Is that the name of the man who did this?”

“Y-Yeah.” Steve frowned, brows pinched, as Herobrine nodded.

“Come on, we’re not far from the warped forest,” Herobrine said, turning and continuing to walk. Steve gaped at him, then hurried to catch up.

Unlike before, the silence was heavy and oppressive, but he had no one to blame but himself. Steve opened his mouth several times but couldn’t get any words out. He was stumped by the abrupt change of subject. Finally he managed to stutter out, “A-Are you...okay?”

* * *

No, Herobrine was not okay.

He was filled with so much rage that he had circled back to calm.

Steve had been hurt while in the Overworld, carved into like some animal and left unprotected. Herobrine had known, when that creature had appeared, that something had happened but—

He clenched his fists tighter.

All he had had to do was cross through the portal. He could have _helped_. But the thought was more terrifying than he would ever admit to anyone. The Overworld was dangerous for him but—and this was something that he turned over and over in his mind—it was dangerous for Steve too and _he_ still went back. Before, Steve had said that people didn’t like him. Now, someone was literally out to kill him and Steve was laughing it off like it was no big deal? Like it didn’t matter?

Like _he_ didn’t matter?

Herobrine honestly didn’t know what was more enraging, the fact that someone would dare hurt Steve, how little Steve apparently valued his life, or how strong his own reaction was.

And now Steve was asking if _he_ was okay?

He stopped again and turned to Steve, reaching out to grab Steve’s shoulders and shaking him a little to get his full attention. He noticed that Steve always looked away when the subject got too heavy and he needed Steve to understand what he was about to say.

“No, I’m not okay,” he said, staring into wide violet eyes. “And you shouldn’t be either. What happened to you isn’t _nothing_ , do you understand? Someone hurt you and I—“ _Can’t stand that thought_ , is what he wanted to say, but his throat closed around the words. Instead he said, after some floundering, “If I had been there, I would not have hesitated to kill him. If he ever comes back, I want you to come straight here. With any luck he’ll follow you, and I can end his sorry excuse for a life.”

He felt a little guilty at how petrified Steve looked, but when he collected himself, the look on Steve’s face was somewhere between weary and awed. “You would do that?”

Herobrine nodded and tightened his grip on Steve’s shoulder’s slightly. “I would do that and a lot more, if you asked.” His heart lurched as he realized that he didn’t just mean he would kill for Steve. He would do... _a lot more_ , if the man only asked for it.

“Wow, that’s...” Now it was Steve’s turn to flounder. True to form, he looked away, cheeks red. “Sorry, I’m...not really used to this.” He laughed a little, sheepish.

“Used to what?” Herobrine said quietly, his heart suddenly hammering when Steve looked up at him. The open, completely unguarded look on Steve’s face was nearly overwhelming. And Steve’s _eyes_ —he had never been close enough to get a good look at them, and the lighting in the Nether was atrocious, but they were as extraordinary as he had been lead to believe—like the most brilliant amethyst. He had never seen anyone with purple eyes during his early life in the Overworld, but he knew about them. Everyone did. Purple eyes were a sign of either corruption or purity, depending on who you asked.

And though he knew in Steve’s case it was the former, he couldn’t help but think of the latter. Steve was just so _good,_ he didn’t deserve to have his life tainted by the Void.

All too suddenly, Herobrine realized he was leaning forward a bit and stepped back abruptly, letting go of Steve’s arms in the process. His face was burning so fiercely he was a little worried he’d catch fire any second.

“Er—come on, we’re close.” He turned and started walking, gesturing for Steve to follow him. They _were_ close to the warped forest and he was eager to see Steve’s reaction. And eager to forget what just happened.

Behind him he heard Steve laugh softly, and inexplicably he felt the heat spread down his neck. He didn’t do well with embarrassment, and he hoped Steve wouldn’t say anything because he didn’t want his foul mood to ruin their outing.

He jolted slightly at the press of a hand on his arm, looking over sharply. He didn’t want Steve to see his blush but he couldn’t find it in him to look away from Steve’s soft—and amused—smile.

“I’m not used to people caring.”

Herobrine swallowed nervously.

He cleared his throat and glanced away, that damn blush still staining his cheeks. He needed to change the mood from...whatever it was to something safer.

“Yeah? Well, get used to it.” He said it a little too loud, making Steve’s smile widen, and though the embarrassment was still there, it was manageable. They were just joking around. And before that they had had a moment but it was a thing friends did. Friends supported each other through stuff like that, right? Truth be told, Herobrine had never had a true friend so his experiences were a little skewed, but Steve made him want to try. “You’re my only source of entertainment, remember? Of course I care if you’re okay.”

He hid the truth in a joke because it was hard enough admitting to himself that he liked having Steve around, nevermind telling the man outright about it. But jokes and underhanded compliments he could do.

They lapsed into a silence that was more comfortable than before. Herobrine kept repeating Steve’s words in his head— _I’m not used to people caring_. Herobrine could relate to that. Even before he had gotten his powers, he hadn’t had the easiest time making friends. It just wasn’t in his nature to seek out that ‘human connection.’ Part of why he’d fought so hard to get power from the Wither in the first place was that he had thought himself above being merely ‘human.’ He saw it as a weakness.

...Of course, he was going to ignore the fact that just a few hours ago he had been wandering around in a daze because Steve had left and Herobrine hadn’t known what to do with himself in the meantime, despite having spent countless years by himself and happy for it. Now that he thought about it, he’d probably known Steve for all of a handful of hours total and he was already starting to miss the human’s company when he was gone. That raised conflicting feelings in him, for numerous reasons.

He didn’t like feeling in any way dependent on someone, but he enjoyed Steve’s judgement-free company.

He didn’t like the extreme rage that threatened to choke him at the very thought of something happening to Steve—it didn’t make any sense and he hated feeling out of control. After 200 years, he liked to think he had a pretty good grip on his powers and emotions, but some time around Steve and all that hard won control went right out the window. He blamed the Void, though he knew that wasn’t fully it. Being around the Wither day in and day out didn’t incite such strong feelings. The only thing he felt strongly when around the Wither was annoyance, but that had nothing to do with their connection and everything to do with the Wither itself. With Steve it was like that too, except with more positive emotions. He still didn’t know if he preferred that or would rather have Steve’s presence be a bother—that would certainly make things real easy.

He looked over. Steve was observing their surroundings—nothing special, just more of the same old, same old—but he seemed genuinely enthralled by the environment. It was pure joy on his face. Herobrine felt his mind clear a bit at the sight. Maybe he should stop thinking so much and just focus on the here and now.

The existentially crisis could come later.

Herobrine could see the warped forest come into view ahead of them, far enough away that Steve wouldn’t be able to make it out yet. Perfect.

“We’re almost there,” Herobrine said, stopping and turning to Steve. “Close your eyes.”

Steve raised a brow but complied, closing his eyes without fuss. Herobrine didn’t know why _that_ sent a jolt of heat through his veins. Steve was so _trusting_.

“Don’t open them until I say so, got it?”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m going to teleport us. Keep your eyes closed.”

“Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time.”

 _Cheeky_ , but Herobrine let it pass without comment, teleporting them quickly, eager for this.

* * *

Steve held his breath as they teleported, unable to help himself.

The ground became slightly softer, with a more natural give, like dirt, as opposed to the slight give of spongy netherrack he’d gotten used to. The temperature, amazingly enough, dropped ever so slightly, probably not by much in the grand scheme, but it was immediately noticeable and a relief at that. It still felt too hot, but it was muted somehow. The ambient sound of fire crackling and burning also faded, something eerie he couldn’t make out taking its place.

“Alright,” Herobrine said. His voice was not next to Steve like he expected, instead somewhere in front of and to the left of him. “You can open them.”

Steve did.

He breath left him in a rush, eyes widening as he took in the sight. It was _beautiful_. Much like the crimson forest, there were actual trees and grass, everything from the ground to the leaves a pleasant shade of teal. There were also strange veins that sprouted from the ground and shot straight into the air, swaying softly in an imaginary breeze. The teal made the area seem calmer, less life threatening. Steve could see what Herobrine meant by ‘peaceful.’

“It’s amazing,” he breathed, looking from his right to his left until his gaze landed on Herobrine, who had on the most smug expression. “I can’t believe something like this can exist in the Nether.”

“I told you you’d love it.”

Steve did love it. As much as he liked the adventure and the thrill and the action, he enjoyed the calm and quiet as well. This place was an oasis in an otherwise hellish nightmare.

They ventured into the forest. Somewhat unfortunately, the terrain was the only interesting part of the biome, bar the pure ‘newness’ of the whole thing. It was just trees and plants, stretching on and on, and a curious lack of mobs.

“Are you still keeping mobs away or is this place just deserted?” Steve asked, leaning against a short stump as they stopped to rest.

“Both,” Herobrine answered. He had his eyes fixed on the ground, collecting any of the large mushroom-ish growths he spotted. Aside from the color, they appeared to be similar to Overworld mushrooms. He’d handed one to Steve, who’d been turning it over in his hands absentmindedly while he watched Herobrine work.

After a few moments, Herobrine explained, “The only mobs that come here are endermen. Unless intentionally lead here, other mobs tend to stay away.”

“Huh.” Steve looked around. Still just trees. No mobs. “Then why aren’t there any endermen?”

“Beats me,” Herobrine said. Steve got the impression he didn’t care. He seemed pretty focused on his task.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? I’m collecting warped fungus.”

Gee, as if that was supposed to answer his question. “Is there a reason or have you actually been crazy this whole time and you’ve just been playing me for a fool?”

Herobrine stood up and smirked. “You don’t need me to make you look like a fool, you handle that all by yourself.”

Steve threw the fungus at him and it bounced harmlessly off Herobrine’s chest as he laughed. The sound sent tingles down his spine and he blushed, unable to keep a smile off his face. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Herobrine laugh before. It was...nice. He liked that Herobrine could laugh around him.

“Well? What are they for? You don’t eat them, do you?”

“Gods no.” Herobrine looked disgusted as he said it. “They taste like the most chewy, bland thing you can imagine, plus they offer no nutritional value. It’d be pointless to eat them even if their terrible taste and texture didn’t bother you.”

Steve hummed, then held up his hand. “Lemme see one.”

Herobrine tossed one to him and he inspected it closer. The flat top _was_ fairly tough, but so were Overworld mushrooms until they were cooked properly. “Have you tried cooking them?”

“Yes. Doesn’t work. Any moisture they hold instantly evaporates once released. Cooking them just makes them tougher, hence the chewiness.” Herobrine paused, then added, “Though obviously I don’t know what they’d turn out like if cooked in the Overworld, though their taste doesn’t lead me to believe it’d be much different.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll give it a try.” Steve stuffed the fungus into his bundle. Couldn’t hurt.

“Yeah you do that. But to answer your original question, I’m collecting them for the striders around my fortress.”

Steve perked up at that. “Striders? Those are the...the, uh...shit, I know you mentioned them once before...” He pursed his lips, thinking hard about what Herobrine had said about them, but he was drawing a blank.

“They’re a peaceful mob that can walk on lava.”

“Ah, right! I remember now. You said they can be ridden, right? Oh, and this is the warped fungus you mentioned. So they eat this?”

Herobrine nodded. “Yep, the little bastards go crazy for it. You can get them to follow you around or you can tie some fungus to a stick and have them lead you around on lava. Not that I’d need that, but for you it might be fun.”

Steve nodded along but stopped, confused. “Wait, why wouldn’t you need that?”

“I—“ Herobrine cut himself off, then the most devious smile appeared on his face. Steve was instantly suspicious.

“I never told you, did I?” He said. He walked over to Steve and shoved the fungus into his arms. He struggled to hold them all and huffed, but his irritation quickly faded into cautious curiosity as Herobrine walked over to a small, nearby lava pool. 

Herobrine knelt and looked over at him. A bad feeling came over him and he stood from the stump. “Wait,” he called out, but Herobrine just looked down at the lava and, without hesitation, plunged his hand into it.

“Wait—No!” Forgetting the fungus, he rushed over and knelt beside Herobrine, pushing at his shoulder to get him away from the lava. “Stop, what are you doing!”

“Relax, I’m fine,” Herobrine said, pulling his hand out. Steve stared with wide eyes as lava dripped down his arm, but his hand was not horribly burned like he would have expected. In fact, it looked perfectly normal as Herobrine flipped it around to show both sides. “See?”

“What...I thought...How...”

He was truly speechless, until Herobrine said with an amused smirk, “Aw, were you worried about me? That’s cute.”

Steve’s heart was hammering as the sudden burst of adrenaline to his system slowly faded. “Gods, don’t fucking _do_ that shit! What the fuck man!” He punched Herobrine’s arm lightly in retaliation but the man just laughed. Steve smiled despite himself, because sure, Herobrine had stuck his hand in lava to scare him, but he had also _stuck his hand in lava_. And he was _fine_.

“Sorry but I couldn’t help myself,” Herobrine stood and then held out a hand—the other one—for him, hoisting him upright as well. Steve was too flustered to think twice about it. “But yeah, I’m immune to lava and fire. So I don’t need a strider to cross large spans of lava. I can just swim.”

Steve’s head spun just trying to imagine that. “Seriously? That’s awesome! I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”

Herobrine shrugged, leading Steve back over to where he’d carelessly dropped the warped fungus in his panic and started picking them back up. “Lava is more resistant than water, but otherwise it’s the same principle.” Herobrine handed him several of the fungus to hold and then turned to survey their surroundings. “Do you want to keep looking around or return to the fortress?”

Steve took one last long look at the warped forest before turning to Herobrine. “We can head back for now. It’s been pretty peaceful and I’d hate for my terrible luck to act up and get us in trouble.”

Herobrine snorted out a laugh. “With me around, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as he followed Herobrine out of the warped forest. “Yeah okay _Mr. Hero_ , just get us back in one piece.”

Herobrine glanced over his shoulder and winked.

Steve studiously ignored the way his heart fluttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, they had a nice time!
> 
> I’m sure that will last and they’ll make it back no problem and nothing bad will ever happen again :)


End file.
